Semblance of Brotherhood
by LucianGrimoire
Summary: Second chances were rare. He knew that. He knew that he didn't deserve one in the slightest. And yet, Fate had blessed him with one. One that not only gave him the chance to achieve his life's ambition, but also to finally atone for his greatest sin. Who was he to say no to that?
1. Restart

**_Hello! Decided to give RWBY another shot. This time it isn't a crossover, instead I'll be writing a story about an OC. I've been putting time into fleshing out his story and his identity as a character for almost as long as my DASC story has been out, so let me know what you think of him!_**

**_Also, just wanted to make it clear that yes, he is paired with Blake. I know people love Bumblebee and stuff, and I also hear that pairing OC's with main characters tends to get a fair bit of hate, but I'm going to tell the story the way I envisioned it. If any of you want a particular pairing, leave it in the review section and I'll be sure to think about it. Warning, I won't add a pairing if it simply doesn't make sense given the context of the story._**

**_OC INFO, SPOILERS AHEAD, IF YOU'D RATHER BE SURPRISED SKIP TO THE ACTUAL CHAPTER_**

**_Name: Silva Taro_**

**_Gender: Male_**

**_Species: Faunus (Arctic Fox)_**

**_Height: 5 1/2 Feet_**

**_Aura Color: _****_Pale Blue_**

**_Hair Color: Silver_**

**_Eye Color: Cerulean_**

**_Semblance: Shade_** **_Skip (Shadow based teleportation, other applications unknown)_**

**_Weapon: Regalis (Grapple/Sword Hybrid)_**

* * *

**_-Semblance of Brotherhood-_**

_Chapter 1: __Restart_

_"The hearts of men are easily corrupted, and yours is no exception, brother. If you leave, those pigs will manipulate you into being a tool, something to be tossed away whenever you lose value! Do you want that? Do you really want to be a fucking slave for the rest of your life?"_

_"No, but I refuse to stay here any longer. You and that damned woman are going to destroy us, you know. You're both hot-headed and think violence will solve our problems, but in truth your starting a battle that can't be won. The Humans will trample you into the dirt, along with the Fang."_

_"What was that, you little shit?"_

_"You're going to doom the Faunus to the same fate you're supposed to be trying to avoid."_

_"THEY KILLED HER!"_

_"And trying to avenge her is the **last** thing she'd want you to do about it!"_

_"SHUT THE **FUCK** UP!"_

_"And what if I don't?"_

_"THEN I'LL CUT YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!"_

**_Blood_**.

* * *

His hand jerked to his face, fingers clutching the scar that he'd earned after that fateful argument. A long, deep fissure that reached from the side of his neck, crossed over his lips, and ended on the other side of his face. He drew a long breath, the dull hum of the airship settling his temper as he calmed himself down.

_The past is the past. Focus on the present._

Reaffirming himself, he turned to look to his left, towards a large observation window he'd sat next to. On the other side laid Vale, the most impressive city that he had ever seen. In person, at least.

But, this glorious Kingdom was, in all honesty, a backdrop to the monolithic castle that lay in the distance. Massive barely described it, the thing was probably taller than an actual mountain.

_Beacon, hm?_

He'd heard of the Academy while he was on the road between Mistral and Vale, and hadn't hesitated to get into the Entrance Exam that was being held today. Getting into Beacon would do wonders for his training, both physical and not. That, and he needed a Huntsman's License for the future.

As his thoughts began to drift, he couldn't help but notice a boy, no older than himself, with a bedraggled head of golden blonde hair. He was standing not far off and looked like he was about to vomit. Literally.

And the longer he looked at the boy, the more obvious his motion sickness became. Within a couple of minutes he was already green in the cheeks, a hand clasped over his mouth to contain the bile that had begun to surface.

While he didn't personally have any issues with motion sickness, he could definitely understand the boy's plight. He glanced back to the window, and took some solace in the fact that their ride was very nearly over.

Just as he was about to reassure the blonde, there was a click as a hologram appeared on the far side of the airship's common area. Every head in the room immediately shifted to face the phantom, some letting out small sounds of excitement.

_"Hello, and welcome to Beacon." _The holographic woman began, her words thick with a positivity that he could tell was mostly false._ "My name is Glynda Goodwitch. You are among the privileged few who have received the honor of being selected to attend this prestigious Academy! Our world is experiencing an incredible time of peace,"_ She continued, though that last statement left a sour taste in his mouth. Peace? What did she know of Peace? At that exact moment a Faunus was almost certainly being murdered by some Human bigot. 'Peace' was a lie. Something to comfort civilians when tensions were near their breaking point._ ", and as future Huntsman and Huntresses, it is your duty to uphold it. You have demonstrated the courage needed for such a task, and now it is our turn to provide you with the knowledge and the training to protect our world." _The woman was either unimaginably naive, or she was coddling these kids for their own sake. Regardless, it didn't do much to further his trust in the Academy's foundation in reality.

Just as the hologram flickered out of existence, he felt a sudden rock as the ship touched the ground, and the dull hum puttered out as the pilot killed the engine. Taking this as the queue to leave, he shoved himself to his feet, the scabbard of his weapon scraping against the metal he'd been sitting on.

As he walked, someone bumped into his shoulder from behind, causing him to immediately turn around as his instincts flared. To his relief, it'd merely been the boy from earlier rushing to the nearest trash bin. Brushing the incident off, he left the airship.

The air was cold, nearly freezing, when his feet finally rejoined solid ground. The marble beneath his feet was frosty, and his breath was a thick smoke when he exhaled. He looked up, eyeing the castle again as he veered away from its doors.

The vast majority of students immediately flocked inside, the cold too much for them to explore comfortably. He, however, had no such issue. His time with the Fang had taken him to the outer wilds of Atlas several times, and one eventually learned to steel themselves against any cold. So, he took the moment to look around the campus, committing as much to memory as he could. It would be impractical to get lost on his first day here.

He hadn't been doing so for long, when his Faunus heritage alerted him to something amiss.

He didn't usually take advantage of his ears too often. Most of the time it simply wasn't useful, seeing as his superiors in the Fang had never bothered to have him do anything but fight. But, that didn't mean that he didn't treasure them. After all, they were all he had left of his family. His _real_ family, anyway.

They were slight, just barely large enough to poke through his silver hair, but they granted him an immensely keen sense of hearing.

And through that sense, he was able to pick up on the sound of someone breathing. But it wasn't the slow, rhythmical sound of a body at rest. It was quick, stuttering, and accompanied by the occasional muffled gasp. He couldn't hear any other breathing, so the culprit was definitely alone. That left only one possibility that he actually thought was worth intervening.

Whoever this was, was crying.

He wasn't the type to console people. He wasn't the type to handle sensitive situations. His _type_ was that of a fighter, pure and simple.

But, he also couldn't just leave that person without doing _something_.

So, he took a steadying breath before making his way toward the source of the sound. It didn't take long to pin them down. He found her sitting atop a large tree branch, probably around twenty feet up, with a book in her lap and her head in her hands. She shook every two seconds or so, her eyes clenched shut. He couldn't make out her face very well, her jet black hair made it extensively difficult to do so.

This was a hard situation for him to read. If he called out to her, it could make the situation even worse. If he didn't, he would be leaving a young girl alone to sob in the cold.

It was then that a compromise formed in his head. He would leave her be, for now, and attempt to learn more about her. So that, if he should ever see her in this state again, he'd be able to actually help. Right now he would be taking a shot in the dark. He simply didn't know this girl.

And so, rather begrudgingly, he made a silent retreat.

* * *

He spent the next few minutes walking back toward the central building, where he could hear a man's voice addressing the Initiates-to-be. He felt bad, leaving the poor girl, but he didn't trust himself enough to do anything about it.

_Focus on the present._

Grounding himself, he let out a shallow breath.

When he finally made it back to the auditorium, he noticed that the man's speech had seemingly come to a close, and the silence that followed was quite deafening. He recognized Goodwitch, who stepped up the the microphone in order to break the silence.

"Alright, children. Initiation will be tomorrow. Until then, please feel free to explore the campus. Any questions will be answered by either myself or another member of staff. The cafeteria is going to serve as your sleeping area tonight. Remember, boys on one side, girls on the other." Her voice was slightly different. Not as welcoming, and very matter-of-fact. It sounded much more fitting to her look.

He melted into the crowd, after that, simply following the mass of bodies to the cafeteria. He took the time to lay out his sleeping mat, and change into some sleepwear, though he still carried his weapon by his side.

Things quieted down rather quickly, and within the hour about seventy percent of the Initiates were either gossiping amongst themselves or asleep. He scanned the room, his eyes flicking from one person to the next, looking for anyone that seemed like a capable fighter.

He spotted a few, but his eyes soon locked onto a particular girl not far from his spot in the far corner of the cafeteria. Her hair was a striking shade of red, garbed in traditional Mistrali sleepwear, eyes sparkling emerald in the candlelight.

Pyrrha Nikos?

What was a famous tournament champion doing at Beacon?

It was puzzling. Especially considering the fact that Nikos was probably one of the only people here with any real combat experience. Not only that, but she was from Mistral. Why would she bother flying all the way to Vale when Haven Academy was so much closer?

_Then again, it isn't like she has to worry about money in any regard. Probably just chose the school she wanted, instead of the one closest to home._

Dismissing the girl for the time being, his eyes were suddenly drawn to a familiar figure. She was tall, probably taller than him, with flowing black hair and a small bow atop her head. She was seated on the other side of the cafeteria, a candle drawn close to illuminate the book in her lap.

_Well, no better time to make progress than the present._

And with that, he pushed himself to his feet, careful to not let his weapon clatter against the tile floor. He walked rather briskly, slipping between sleeping bags and mats as quickly as possible without ever actually touching them.

By the time he focused on the raven-haired girl again, he was surprised to see two other girls walking up to her as well. By the time he reached them, the three were already talking to one another, though the conversation seemed rather stale.

"What book are you reading?" The smallest of them asked the raven-haired girl, who seemed to suddenly take a great deal more interest in the conversation, closing the text and turning her head up to face the petite girl. A woman of literature?

"It's called 'The Man With Two Souls,'" She began, and he noticed the smaller girl was almost immediately shedding her anti-social body language, leaning closer and looking the other in the eye with genuine fascination.

_How old is this girl? Fourteen? She certainly isn't the proper age to be at this Academy._

He shelved the odd revelation, returning from his thoughts to look for an opening to interject himself into the conversation.

"That's pretty idealistic, Ruby, the world isn't a fairy tale."

"Well, that's why people become Huntsmen, isn't it? To make it better."

_That's... actually not the worst way of viewing it. Kid's got a decent head on her shoulders. _

"Well, I guess that's one way of looking at it. You're not as naive as you seem." He spoke, and for the first time the attention of the three women was solely on himself. They'd been so caught up in their own talks that he doubted he'd been noticed before now. Each of their eyes flicked over to him, widening slightly at the sudden and unexpected newcomer.

The blonde was the first to speak, her voice chirpy and outgoing, "Hey! Couldn't help but notice that you just called my little sister naive," Her eyes met his and, for a single instant, he could swear that they flashed crimson in the candlelight, "Care to explain what _that's_ supposed to mean?"

He didn't let her obvious anger perturb him in the slightest. "I wasn't saying so to be offensive. She seems a shade young for this school, I was merely making it known that I underestimated her maturity. It was a complement." He explained calmly, making sure to maintain eye contact while speaking.

She looked him over for a moment, probably scrutinizing his body language to get an idea of whether or not he was being genuine. After a couple of short seconds, her previously tense and poised muscles began to relax, though her eyes still burned slightly. How neither of the other two picked up on her intensity, he had no idea.

"Good! Nice to meet you, dude. Name's Yang. This," She reached to her side, laying a loose hand over the short girl's head, ruffling her hair teasingly, "is my younger sister, Ruby." Her ministrations were met with a high-pitched 'eep!' from Ruby, who quickly ducked her head and took a few hurried steps away from her older sister.

"Well met, the both of you," He returned, turning his head to look the black-haired girl in the eyes. "I don't believe we've met either, miss?" She met his gaze, seeming to be slightly taken aback that she was being noticed at all.

"Oh, uh, hi. My name's Blake." She answered, and for just an instant a flash of familiarity crossed his mind, but he just as quickly shoved it down. Her lips curled upward into a small smile, "And you are...?"

"Silva." He tipped in a small bow, "Best of luck to all of you, then. I hope we run into eachother during Initiation." With his goal accomplished and his mind drained, he quickly turned and rushed back to his bedroll without another word.

_I need to talk to people more. That was exhausting!_

He let out a small breath before sinking to his back, the thin mat doing little to comfort his shoulders.

_Probably should have waited on that. If any of them know who I am, it's her. What were the fucking chances that the mystery weeper turns out to be Bella-motherfucking-donna herself!? ... Breathe, Taro. She doesn't know my face, that much I can be sure of. But I can't imagine him never even **mentioning** me while she was around. And then there's my reputation in the Fang... shit! How could I have botched this up more?_

**_Stop._**

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

Relax.

His heart slowed, steadily, and the turmoil in his mind began to subside. Out of instinct, his eyes scanned the cafeteria once more. Before long he was looking yet again in the direction of the famed Pyrrha Nikos, who was simply sitting cosslegged on her ornate Mistralian red sleeping bag, eyes closed in a relaxed sereneness that he saw as misplaced, given the importance of the next day.

But beyond that, something else drew attention. He doubted anyone else noticed, given that they weren't quite used to the idea of paranoid awareness, which had been ingrained in his mind since he'd first entered the Fang.

Her circlet, to his utmost consternation, was not reflecting light at the moment. In fact, it almost looked like a stange, black Aura-like substance was coating it in darkness. But, that didn't make sense. Pyrrha's Aura was univerally known to be a bloody crimson. Not pitch black. There was something else going on, Aura never changed color, ever.

That only left one other known Soul-based phenomena to explain it.

Her Semblance.

The Semblance of Pyrrha Nikos was a highly sought after secret. Most believed it was some sort of reflex-enhancement, or possibly even a powerful form of foresight, but no one except she and her personal Agent actually knew any details.

And here he was, with an oppportunity to witness it's use in a casual setting.

How uncharacteristically fortunate.

Moving on, he noticed something odd about how the 'Semblance' interacted with the small ruby adorning the center of the circlet. While the golden metal surrounding it showed no sign of actively reflecting the light around it, he could plainly see that the same could not be said for the gemstone. It refracted, glinted, as though the light-extinuishing properties of her Semblance could not reach it.

But why? What caused the power to avoid the ruby so distinctly?

What was the difference between the two materials?

_Metal._

_Holy shit, that's it! Or, at least, it could be._

Her Semblance, based on this small display that only he was privy to, seemed to possibly be some form of metal manipulation. He highly doubted it was as simple as it seemed at face-value, considering the minor complexities of even his own Semblance. He tended to view the idea of Semblance progression as a form of science. Each affected the world around them in real, unmistakable ways, and he knew from personal experience that the more one analysed their Semblance, the more intricate and unique it tended to become.

Unless there was some form of mental or emotional complex preventing your Soul from growing. He'd witnessed _that_ first-hand as well.

And based on the way Nikos seemed to be using it, she had been dabbling in the deeper workings of her Semblance for some time now.

Then again, he could be giving her too much credit. Or not. No way to know for sure without asking her himself, which he doubted he would take the time to tonight. Even for all of his awareness training, he still needed a decent amount of sleep if he wanted to perfom adequately tomorrow.

Forcing himself to quell the inner Semblance enthusiast threatening to keep him up all night, he turned onto his side, facing a stone wall that granted him a way to blank out his own thoughts. He let his eyes lose focus, all the while keep his vision centered on a single indentation in the masonry. Within half a minute all else ceased to exist for him, the world crumbling away as he lulled himself into a more drowsy state.

* * *

**_The next morning..._**

He wasn't sure when exactly he drifted off, but now his eyes snapped open as he drug himself into a seated position. The majority of the other Initiates were either still trapped in the confines of sleep, or talking amongst themselves about their expectation for the events to follow.

Would they be fighting real Grimm?

Stupid question. This was the most prestigious Huntsmen's Academy in the entire world, of fucking course they would have them kill Grimm.

He hated being surrounded by naivity.

Shrugging off the idiocy, he pushed himself to his feet, swiftly stowing away his sleeping mat within his bag before heading towards the Locker Room.

As he walked, he noticed that not a single other person in the room at the time was carrying their weapon.

Only. Him.

While it obviously wasn't being enforced, apparantly there was rule about carrying weaponry in non-combat situations here.

Must have been in the Headmaster's address yesterday or something.

He chose to ignore the rule this once, seeing as he'd already broken it unknowingly.

When he entered the Locker Room, he noticed several both familiar and unfamiliar faces. He noted the presence of Ruby, Yang, as well as Belladonna. Aside from them, he saw Nikos in the far corner of the room, fastening the final buckle of her shinguard.

Then he saw something that chilled him to the core, and yet set a blazing fire in his heart that nearly drove him to take lethal retribution right then and there.

Weiss.

**_Schnee._**

A Schnee. At Beacon.

**_With him._**

Blistering fury overrode all instinctual fear of that cused name.

His hand flew to the grip of his weapon, fist squeezing the hilt with enough Aura-infused strength to snap the leather bindings surrounding the foundation of the handle. He wanted to act. To rush forward in a fit of unmitigated rage, but he didn't. He simply stood there, grip slowly loosening as he fought to hold onto his sense of reason.

Soon he managed to stop his temper from exploding, releasing his white-knuckled grip while letting out a slow, relaxing breath.

_Keep your shit together, Taro. Now isn't the time for a meltdown. That can come later. When I can kill something that isn't another human being._His life was always going to be unreasonably coincidental, wasn't it? First he becomes a terrorist, the he quits, and by some sour turn of fate he was now being trapped together with a Belladonna _and_ the current heiress to the S.D.C.

Karma truely was a cruel, unfeeling mistress.

Finally he moved, his eyes flicking across the room to see if anyone had noticed his sudden display of murderous intent. Seemingly, by some miracle, no one had noticed he was even in the room yet. Each occupant was too caught up in preparations for Initiation.

Which, he mused, was something he might actually want to start doing himself. Then again, all he had to prepare was one thing.

"Well, I suppose it's been too long since I last went over your edge. Would you agree, Regalis?" His sword said nothing, it couldn't of course, but for some reason he just _knew_ that she would.

Regalis was the first weapon he'd ever touched. He'd been told long ago, by his true family, that it had belonged to his deceased father. They had bestowed it upon him when he was merely four, and had trained him for the rest of his short tenure with them.

Then _it _happened, and from there he'd been forced to learn every small piece of what he knew today for himself. Even _he_ hadn't bothered to actually teach him a damn thing. Just gave him an unbeatable opponent to perfect his technique against.

He took a seat close to the entrance of the Locker Room, removing Regalis, sheathe included, from his waist. He set the sealed blade upon the table before him, taking a quiet moment to admire the sheer beauty of the scabbard's craftsmenship. Elegant, golden engravings traced along a length of aquamarine wood, gilded around the edges and adorned in the center by a single, stunning sapphire encased in gold, a line of enscription circles the gem, but the etching is so finely carved that he can't make out it's words exacly.

He snaps himself out of his reverie, reaching for the hilt before suddenly remembering the result of his death-grip from earlier. The leather binding that warpped around the hilt had snapped, hanging loosely from the bar. He let out a sigh, cursing himself for being so brash and stupid.

He quickly got to work, delicately unwrapping the leather with practiced ease. Seconds later he had finished, and wasted no time in re-applying the grip with a new strip of the same material, which he kept a small supply of in his bag for moments like these. It was a Vacuoan variety of leather that only occured in the various non-Grimm megafauna that wandered the remote deserts out west. It was an advanced variety of skin that was specifically formed to resist heat and friction-based energy, making it perfect to use as a sword grip. The smooth side of the leather was nearly as slick as ice, which most swordsmen would avoid like the plague. He, however, relished that quality. His method of swordplay was one that benefited from a certain agility of the fingers. A secure grip meant little to him.

He slowly, meticulously slid the band of leather around the hilt, snaking the two ends in a very particular weave meant to last. By the time he had reached the base of Regalis' crossguard, he was becoming actuely aware of the light, yet speeding footsteps rushing toward him.

Instinct superseded all logic. In a blur his fingers fastened the final knot before he gripped the handle of his sword, ripping himself around with the sheathed blade already mid-way through a precise jab aimed for his assailant's solar plexus.

"Ah! Wait!" An unmistakably familiar voice cried out, but there was no stopping his reflexive counterattack at this point. The end of his sheathe slammed into Ruby's upper chest with enough power behind it to send her back by about a yard before her broken balance caught up with her, leaving her heaving for breath on the floor, clutching the wound with a trembling hand.

To his surprise, she stifled any scream or cry, instead simply sitting on her knees, teeth bared viciously as she fought through the intense pain. She glanced up at him, shock and budding caution in her eyes. Normally he'd have blamed the girl for attempting to rush him without context or warning, but for some reason those silver, scared puppy-dog eyes stopped him short. He let out a breath, setting Regalis back on the table before walking over to her. He dropped to a single knee, leveling his remorseful gaze at her.

"Forgive me. I shouldn't have reacted that way, not here. My instincts... well, they tend to get the better of me." He said, relieved when he saw her Aura recover from the shock to her respiratortly system, a bloody glow encasing her body and easing the pain. He'd learned over the years that disrupting someone's ability to breathe also seemed to deprive them of Aura for a short period. This was probably the easiest way to kill an Aura-user, as it was pretty much the only way to bypass Aura without beating on the victim for longer than he deemed necessary.

Had she been an actual enemy, his follow-up strike would have killed her as simply as a Grimm.

She gave him a small smile, obviously still slightly paranoid, but not outright afraid. "It's okay, I shoulda said something. Or, ya know, walked..." She said, letting a small giggle at her own dumbness.

"Then I suppose we're both to blame, to some extent. Here," He stood, reaching back down to her with an open hand. She seemed to be wary for all of about two more seconds before she grabbed onto him, letting him hoist her to her feet. She blinked for a second, not entirely sure what to say next as her social awkwardness began to rear it's head.

"Th-thanks, I, um..." She trailed off, the nervous feeling distracting her from what she had wanted to ask.

"Don't worry about it, I did just knock the breath out of you. Least I could do for penance." And he'd nearly turned that into murder. So, yeah, he kind of felt stupid.

She seemed to have a realization as he spoke, her eyes taking on an almost shimmering quality as he eyes suddenly left him, peering over his shoulder, to the weapon that had just floored her. "Um, so, would it be okay for me to have a look at your sword? If not it's okay, I just reallyreallyreallylikeweaponsandwantedtoseeyoursandohgodthisisso-!"

**_*Clap!*_**

The sound derailed her spiral of introverted panic, causing her to let out a small '_eep!' _that reminded him of last night, when her elder sister had picked with her a little bit to lighten the mood.

She was quiet for just a moment, before she gave him a shy, apologetic smile wreathed in a blush. "Sorry, I kinda do that a little bit. But, um, would that be okay?"

How in Oum was he going to say no to that fucking face?

"Well, I don't see why not. Isn't like we'll be fighting eachother anytime soon." He stepped aside, content with letting the girl admire the perfection that was Regalis at her own pace. If he'd caught it correctly, she'd mentioned being a fan of weaponry during her mini-panic attack. That was a plus in his book. Weapons went underappreciated far too often nowadays.

He said nothing for a while, noticing that she wasn't immediately attempting to remove Regalis from her scabbard. Instead, he wide eyes were scouring the ornate engravings with genuine fascination. "Does this stuff mean anything? I honestly can't tell." She asked.

"Well, most of it is symbolism that would take too long to explain properly. Though, there is a bit here," He leaned closer, pointing to the band of enscription that circled the sapphire in the center. "My Grandfather used to say that the writing was meaningless, that it was simply my father's creativity while forging it." Ruby leaned in as well, studying the small words intensely before looking over at him.

"Well? Was it really just gibberish?"

He was quiet for a few seconds after that, simply staring at it. Then, he drew in a long breath, calming his nerves somewhat. "A few years later, after my Grandfather passed, my Grandmother told me the truth. They were indeed meaningful. The exact words are a secret that my father took with him in his own passing, around the time I was born. According to my Grandmother, it was a message. A message written in a complex coded language that he was supposed to teach me, but never had the chance to. I've been trying to decypher it since I was a small boy, with little success. Eventually I just stopped trying."

...

Ruby seemed to be hesitant to press any further, and he was glad for it. Quiet meant he could think, and keep himself occupied.

"Sorry for bringing it up, I-" He cut her off,

"Don't be. You were curious, and I felt like sharing. Nothing to regret about that." She seemed to calm at his words, the guild in her face relaxing into one of mild passiveness.

"Can I see the blade?" She blurted, and for a moment he considered it.

"Another time. You might see it in action soon anyway, and I actually need to finish maintenance before they call us up for Initiation." She nodded, content with that answer. "Mkay, I'm gonna head back over to my sis, I'll see ya around."

"Very well, hope to see you all during Initiation." With that, she walked back over to where Yang and Belladonna were finshing up their preparations, whilst he'd barely had the chance to begin.

_Alright, Taro, back to work._

He flexed his fingers, and released the safety locking Regalis within its sheathe.

* * *

**_On Initiation Hill..._**

Silva felt quite confident, all things considered. He'd been through things that would make any sane man slit their own throat, and he hardly thought that Headmaster Ozpin would be willing to push the gauntlet that hard. In that man's eyes, every single person here was nothing more than potential. He would want to challenge that potential, not smother it entirely.

They were each standing on a large platform, one that sounded somewhat hollow when his boot's toe kicked against it out of curiosity. Either an elevator or some weird launching thing. Or something else entirely.

Ozpin and Goodwitch stood before them, and the tension on festered until the Headmaster broke the silence.

"For years, you have trained to become Huntsmen. Today, those skills shall be evaluated in the Emerald Forest." Glynda followed him up swiftly, "Now, I'm sure all of you have heard rumors about the assignment of teams." She gave the large group a quick once over, "Well, allow me to put an end to your confusion. Each of you will be given teammates. Today."

Ozpin slipped in to replace her without missing a beat, "These teammates will be with you for the rest of your time, here at Beacon, so it is in your best interest to be paired to someone with whom you can work well." There was a milisecond pause before Ozpin dropped a massive bombshell of explanation.

"That being said, the first person you make eye-contact with after landing will be your partner for the next four years." He heard Ruby let out a shocked squeal, and he nearly spoke up himself. How was that a reliable way to determine a good match? It was like throwing a bunch of magnets at a fridge and seeing which ones stuck together. Just utter random chance.

But, out of humility and respect, he held his tongue.

"After you pair up, make your way to the North end of the Forest. You will meet oppisition along the way, do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path, or you _will_ die." There was nervous chuckling near where Ruby's voice had come from.

"You will be monitored and graded for the duration of you Initiation. But, our instructors will not intervene. You will find an abondoned temple at the end of the path, containing several 'relics'. Each pair must choose one, and return with it to the edge of the cliff. We will regard that item, as well as your standing, and we will grade you appropriately."

His voice became stern, "Are there any questions?"

To Silva's surprise, only one person actually spoke. To his shock, it was the very same boy who'd nearly vomited all over himself during the Bullhead ride here.

"Uh, actually I u-"

"Good, now, take your positions."

Damn. Maybe he'd underestimated Ozpin's capacity for mailce? Shrugging the notion off, he slid his feet into a neutral stance, unsure of what exactly to expect.

Then the person to his left was suddenly lauched nearly one hundred feet into the air above the Emerald Forest.

Oh. Weird landing thing it was, then. And that throwing magnets analogy only became more fitting.

Before his thoughts could go anywhere else, there was a click underneath as the launching mechanism fired, instantly hitting him with a few Gs. He adjusted quickly, stablizing himself in the air as he soared, scouring the forest below for a suitable landing place. It didn't take but a few seconds for his eyes to spot a sizable clearing not far from him. And it was to the North, which cut out a small chunk of time for him. He changed the angle of his fall, fanning out to catch what little air he could. It helped, slightly, but it was enough. Within ten seconds he was right on course for a perfect landing.

He flicked the locking mechanism of Regalis, unsheathing the Ivory white blade with a whisper of steel. He slipped his index finger into the ring of metal that housed a small trigger. His finger settled on it, waiting for the most favorable moment.

_There!_

His arm took aim for the highest branch he could see, and pulled the trigger. A small projectile shot out at the speed of a bullet, hitting and anchoring into the branch without any trouble. He let go of the trigger, and the crossguard of his blade began to whir, the spool of cable within reeling him towards the branch.

His momentum was still too great to safely land, but that wasn't an issue. As he swung towards the ground, he pulled on his Aura, and the instant his body entered the shadow the forest canopy, he disolved into the shadowy floor. The sudden change in form completely killed his remaining momentum, and he reformed himself a few feet away, already reeling in the remaining bit of anchor.

"I missed this."

With that last bit of nostalgia over with, he began to sprint North, in search of his partner and his ticket into Beacon.

For the first time in years, things were finally lining up his way.

_Take that Lady Luck, you evil bitch!_

* * *

**Alright. So, thoughts? This is the longest first chapter I've ever done, so let me know what you think.**

**First off, I want your opinion of Silva, and how I've done with introducing and cementing his character. I've put a lot of time into building his story, so some feedback would be amazing.**

**Secondly, go ahead. I'm expecting a lot of hate for the pairing. I don't mind, and you minding will not change mine. Don't like it then you aren't obligated to read this.**

**Also, last thing, WARNING, THIS STORY GETS FAIRLY DARK, SO BE WARNED.**

**That's all for now. Buh-Bye!!!**


	2. The Flickering Swordsman

**_-Semblance of Brotherhood-_**

_Chapter 2: The Flickering Swordsman_

"And to think, my parents believed you to be Remnant's greatest threat. How... _uninspiring._" He mocked, driving Regalis deeper into the Beowolf's throat. He'd been ambushed moments ago by a small group of the Grimm, but the effort was for naught. Dispatching Grimm of this caliber was almost as easy as breathing at this stage, they simply weren't intelligent or aware enough to press him. Often a single feint and flourish of his blade was enough to bifurcate the beasts.

He wanted something that fought _back_.

He'd made decent progress since landing, and had only bothered to kill these things to vent his frustrations. Now that the last of them were dead, he had ground to cover. At first the thought occured to him that he should stalk the canopy, and pick out a particular partner. After all, it was decided by eye-contact, not visual recognition alone.

But, he soon decided against it. For all he knew, Ozpin or Goodwitch would notice his tactic, and deduct from his score for bending the rules. It wasn't a sure thing, but he'd rather play it safe.

So he continued North, flaring his Aura into every step.

It wasn't long, maybe another five minutes of uninterrupted sprinting, before his ears caught the nearby report of a firearm. At first, he figured it best to leave the Initiate alone. After all, there was no possible way that any of the Hunstmen in training here couldn't handle a few Grimm.

"HEEELLP! I'M GONNA DIE!"

_Well, shit. No point ignoring it now._

He let out a huff, before changing direction, sprinting towards the sound of the Initiate's horrid cries. By the time he entered the clearing, a hungry pack of Beowolves had surrounded the boy, clearly awaiting their Alpha to deal the finishing strike.

_I must have been attacked by a splinter group of this pack._

He drew Regalis, the hiss of metal was enough to make the Grimm's ears perk, and several of their heads turned to look at him. The ominous red glow of their eyes exuded a sense of hunger that was nearly palpable.

His stance lowered, blade held loosely in his hand.

_Come on, then. No point stalling._

The one nearest to him let out a vicious snarl, rushing towards him with reckless abandon. He frowned.

_Piss off, youngster._

He took a single step forward, meeting the beast's momentum head-on. Just before its claws made contact, Silva flicked Regalis in a circular arc on either side of him, amputating each of its hands from the wrist down. Without slowing his sword, he cut a spin while sidestepping, cleaving into the Grimm's neck as it passed him. Its head flew from its shoulders, black ichor spewing from the wound before its body disintegrated. He snapped his wrist, spattering more of the substance on the ground, where it too evaporated.

He steadied a challenging glare at the rest of the pack, and waited.

_Like clockwork__._

Just as he thought, the remaining Grimm all lunged toward him, and he was surprised to see the Alpha emerge from the treeline, staring at him with eyes that held cunning. Age.

_Yes!_

He leapt at the Beowolf closest to him, Regalis rising from beneath its vision to cleanly slash through its midsection. His blade danced in varying arcs and jabs, piercing hearts and carving through limbs with graceful precision. He dipped low, kicking a foot from underneath one of them while lashing out with Regalis, dicing off the leg before he readjusted his sword's path, decapitating the Grimm. He sidestepped another oncoming assault, the foolish creature leaving its torso exposed long enough for him to rip his blade upward, slicing through its spinal column and kicking it away without much effort. He spun, Regalis flashing through the outstretched arms of three more Beowolves before he realised that several more pack-members were following the Alpha in a circle around him, waiting to see if he would survive.

_Let's switch this up._

He jumped back, Aura gaining him several yards of space between himself and the pack. They regrouped, the Alpha taking up the rear while the rest waited for its command. He took this moment to get a closer look at the Initiate he'd come to save.

The boy was well-built, a short head of brown hair that matched his eyes. Silva noticed his weapon, a large Mace, was across the clearing. Probably got disarmed by the Alpha, then it sent in the pack to weaken him.

_Smart Beowolf. Better be careful._

The boy looked at him, and to his surprise the little shit glared at him, spitting up a little bit of blood before picking himself up. "Fuckin' Faunus, god damn it."

It was little more than a whisper, and any human would have missed it. Except, he wasn't.

"Yeah, now get the fuck up and get out of my way. Get your weapon, and then we'll see if your worth calling my partner." He snapped, patience vanishing in the presence of this impudent racist.

_Of course he's my partner. Fucking wonderful. Evil bitch indeed..._

The boy's brow narrowed in anger, eyes bulging slightly at his order. "How about _you _get the fuck out of m-_" _

An instant later, Silva was in the Initiate's shadow, gripping the back of the fool's collar and slinging him across the clearing with a burst of Aura. He came to a painful stop after skidding several feet, just a few yards from his Mace.

_Karma must have a torture fettish. Fucking ingrate, should've left you for the wolves._

His eyes snapped back to the Beowolf pack, who were still simply standing there, waiting. He looked into the red orbs of the Alpha, raising Regalis level with the Grimm.

"You." He demanded, pulling the trigger of his grapple. The anchor shot forth, faster than the beast could react, and sunk into a spacing in its bone armor. He released the trigger, and the spool began to reel in once more. His feet flared with Aura, sinking unto the dirt and grounding him. This time he acted as the anchor, with the Alpha being roughly dragged through the air. At first it seemed to panic, not expecting the sword to be capable of such a thing.

But its senses returned quickly, and its claws sliced through the cable without a second thought.

How unfortunate, then, that he had inlayed Fire Dust across the wire.

The ensuing explosion was mild, but it stunned the Alpha long enough for him to close the distance between them. It was separated from the pack now, and it was too distracted to call for help.

He led with a feint slash, leading the Grimm's guard low before whipping Regalis into a concise arc to dig into the spacing between its shoulder and torso. Ichor leaked from the wound, and the Grimm's reaction was immediate. It backed away, before rushing in again with a quick series of swipes. Silva backstepped, slinging his blade at odd angles to deflect the onslaught, until the creature overextended slightly, taking just a second too long to raise its guard for his counterattack. His boot collided with its thigh, knocking its stance off-balance and he thrusted his sword, sinking it into the Grimm's abdomen before slamming a feral left hook into its jaw, Aura gifting him enough strength to knock the Alpha off its feet.

He moved in, Regalis poised to strike at the drop of a hat. The Grimm looked up at him, quickly shifting to all fours before leaping to the side, dragging the center of Silva's focus out of sync and rushing him in a desperate, calculated maneuver. It knew that it was outmatched, and that its only option was break the Human's concentration.

The odds favored it, and for the first time it managed to tackle its prey, shredding at the Human's body with fervent rage. To its shock, the Alpha's claws glanced uselessly off of his Aura. He used the instant of hesitation to jab the beast in the nose with the pommel of Regalis, forcing the Grimm to let up the pressure it was applying to his body. The opening was just enough for him to wedge his foot between them, and he kicked out with all of his strength.

The Alpha was thrown several feet back, far enough for Silva to hop to his feet. He readied himself, that last stunt had dented his Aura more than he anticipated. He needed to wrap this up quickly.

"I guess he'll need to see it at some point," He reasoned, eyes darting around the clearing, noticing each and every place where the sun's light was interrupted. Plenty, by the looks of it. Only a few areas that he wouldn't be able to reform in.

He drew in a deep breath, letting the chilling sensation of his Semblance wash over him. His perception widened, suddenly he could see places where small specks of shade existed, all brightened and standing out in his vision. He moved, his ethereal form whisking from one shadow to the next. The cold intensified with every second.

He found the opening he desired. The Alpha had yet to make heads or tails of his sudden vanishing, staring at where he'd been with a mix of anger and curiosity. Luckily, the creature's shadow was behind it. He rose from the darkness, pearly blade sliding through the Alpha's throat before it could even realise its mistake. He flicked his wrist, and the beast's head fell to the earth.

_Better than I expected. Still not enough._

He turned, glaring at the remaining dozen or so Beowolves. They had yet to move.

Then, all at once, they charged. The small thunder of footfall was enough to comepletely drown out all other sound, and for a moment he considered ceasing the use of his Semblance.

_Nah, no fun._

And so he dispersed into shadow once more, briefly phasing into existence long enough to fatally wound each of the pack-members before sinking back into the shadows. A slit throat here, a bifurcation here, spinal disconnection there, and before long he and his partner were the only remaining things in the clearing. Black ooze dripped from Regalis' blade when he stepped out of the boy's shadow, tapping his shoulder to gain his attention.

"We need to move. More will come if we stay. Do you know where North is?" He questioned, and to his relief the boy nodded, jerking his thumb in the correct direction.

"Not a total dumbass, hotshot. I know my cardinal points." He spat, hoisting his weapon from the ground before securing it at his side. Obviously Silva knew the boy had an issue with Faunus. His muttering earlier proved as much. But that didn't matter, they had a mission and he wasn't going to let the kid's ignorance hinder him.

"So, seeing as we're partners, what is your name?" He asked, fully expecting the boy to either ignore him or spit in his face. To his surprise, he met his gaze, anger giving way to furstrated passiveness.

"Cardin. Winchester." He gritted out, before marching off in the direction of the temple.They walked in complete silence, Silva having taken up the rear, focusing more on keeping them from being caught off guard than navigating. Every few minutes or so however, when his partner's back was turned, he would scale a tree to ensure they hadn't gone off-track. Impressively, the Winchester's navigational skills were spot-on. Within half an hour they were coming up on a massive clearing, in the center of which stood what he could only assume to be the temple Ozpin spoke of. It was old, worn by time.

_Well, that was much easier than expected._

He walked up to it, Cardin waiting by the edge of the temple with an impatient look in his eyes.

"Hey! Silva!" At first the voice was foreign to him, but once he looked over his shoulder he realised that Yang and Belladonna had caught up with he and his partner.

The blonde reached them first, coming to a stop near him.

"Nice to see you made it through alright, had you pegged as being pretty tough." She said, positivity leaking out of her in spades. He regarded her for a moment.

"I can handle myself, I suppose. I see you and your partner are doing well." He walked over to something that caught his eye. There several chess pieces around the temple, each resting upon a pedestal in a semicircle that spanned the entirety of the ruins. He reached for the one closest to him, a black rook, and turned it over in his hand.

_Must be the 'relics' the Headmaster spoke of._

He pocketed the piece, zipping the pocket to ensure it didn't get misplaced. After that he walked back over to Cardin.

"I have the relic. Time for us to head back to the cliff." He passed his partner, and just as the two were about to leave, several things happened at once.

First, his eyes noticed an absolutely _massive_ Nevermore flying overhead. Before he could actually react, he saw two figures _literally_ falling from the sky. In that same moment, two _more_ Initiates rounded the edge of the Forest to their right, sprinting full-tilt while screaming for other people to run as well.

_What the fuck is happening!?_

Then the one further behind, who he instantly recognized as the boy from the Bullhead, seemed to take notice of the falling figures, and began to run in the direction of the white-colored one. He barely made it in time, and managed to act as a buffer for the girl to land on.

**_Schnee._**

The heiress didn't even speak to the kid, brushing off her skirt with an air of superiority that sparked anger within him. She and the boy joined the group, and he could hear their conversation clearly

"Guys! Death Stalker!" The boy shouted, worry evident in his eyes. Then Yang's eyes flicked up, and she noticed the Nevermore.

"Uh, guys, I think that's not all we've gotta worry about." She said, pointing at the massive bird. By now the other two, who he was surprised to see were Ruby and Nikos, had joined the group. He hadn't seen Ruby's landing, but she seemed no worse for wear. Within a few seconds they all retrieved a relic, and began to sprint towards a much larger ruin, one that was built upon a massive ravine.

He contemplated following. The group seemed to be of the 'run and live' mentality, intent on escaping with their relics without risking injury from the two enormous Grimm. He could respect that, it took a certain wisdom to understand when to cut your losses.

But, he never claimed to be wise.

He glanced at Cardin, who was quite literally frozen at the sight of such advanced Grimm, and snapped his fingers to get the boy's attention.

"Take the relic. I'm going to make sure those things can't corner them." He said, removing the rook from his pocket and tossing it at Winchester. His partner gave him a doubtful look, one not burdened by genuine concern.

"You don't seriously think you can kill _both_ of them, do you?" He asked, incredulously. Silva scoffed, eyeing the Nevermore intently. "Now isn't the time for this. _Go,_ and make sure you don't fuck it up." Cardin started to object, but the look in the Taro's eyes held so much conviction that he couldn't possibly bring himself to. He stuffed the thing in his jeans, giving the Faunus an eye-roll before sprinting in the direction of the Academy.

Now alone, Silva pumped Aura into his legs, and began to chase the two beasts with explosive strides. As he began to gain ground, he slipped into the treeline, smothering his emotions so that the Nevermore couldn't catch him off-guard. He lept into the canopy, bounding from branch to branch. Before long he was running parallel with the Death Stalker, staying just far enough behind to keep in the thing's blind spot.

_Wait..._

He focused on his hearing, taking extreme care to silence his footsteps as he ran.

_Wait..._

The screech of the Nevermore sounded once more, drilling into his ears sharply.

_Now!_

He bounced upward through the trees, funneling a sizable chunk of Aura into his legs just before the final branch. When his foot hit, he sank low, building power in his legs before launching from the canopy. The giant bird was flying somewhat low, barely close enough. He drew Regalis and raised his arm, leading his shot before firing his grapple.

The speeding anchor hit it dead in its eye. He released the trigger, the reel pulling him to the Nevermore.

He disengaged the anchor, sheer momentum throwing him into the side of the bird's neck. His blade was in place, braced in front of him. It sank into the Nevermore's flesh, slipping between its unimaginably durable feathers to deal a crippling blow. The creature rocked in the air, and Silva was barely able to maintain his grip. He channeled his Semblance, dissolving into the Nevermore's shadow just as it began to barrel roll. He waited a moment, and then reformed on the nape of its neck. He held on for dear life, nearly slipping as the enormous bird corrected its orientation.

He slipped a foot underneath the feather-armor, and torqued his leg up to peel back the layer of protection. Regalis settled into position, and he sliced into its spinal column with every ounce of strength he could muster. The ivory-colored blade cleaved into the Nevermore's spine, a two-handed grip giving him just enough strength to bite into its spinal cord. Instantly all of the beast's cognitive functions ceased, and it began to fall to the earth.

He ripped Regalis from the fatal wound, noticing the bird's current destination seemed to line up perfectly with the large ruin that Ruby and the others had made their last-stand.

Thankfully, they seemed to realize what was heading for them, the group scattering from the center of the ruin and breaking into two units to flank and attempt eliminate the Death Stalker. He waited, timing his bail until the last possible moment.

Just as the Nevermore's corpse began to dissolve, he fired his anchor into one of the support arches keeping the ruin suspended above the ravine. He used the seemingly bottomless underside to his advantage, swinging underneath the bridge and catapulting himself towards the Death Stalker.

He landed near the blonde from the Bullhead, who was picking himself up to rejoin the fray. The boy looked back at him, eyes widening as he seemed to connect the dots between Silva and the Nevermore.

"Can you still fight?" He asked, and Silva was taken aback by the level of calculated thinking in his eyes. He was already re-factoring him into their battle-strategy. He nodded, brandishing Regalis.

"What do you need me to do?" Silva asked, his gut telling him to trust the stranger's judgement. The young man thought for a couple seconds, eyes scattering as he filtered through different possibilities.

_He reminds me of A-_

"Right now all I need is for you to keep it occupied for thirty seconds. After that, try and give Pyrrha and Ruby an opening to finish it. Can you do that?"

"Don't ask stupid questions. Let's go." The boy nodded, and Silva instantly charged the Death Stalker, the rest of the group circling the beast to give him room.

_Good._

The scorpion's stinger was its first strike, which Silva sidestepped while re-directing its aim by parrying with Regalis. It didn't give him a chance to counter, instantly withdrawing its primary weapon and lashing out with a series of blindingly fast pincer attacks. He was barely able to read each move, using his blade as the buffer he needed to react in time. The bone-armor of the Death Stalker was nearly flawless, but after clashing with it for a few seconds he was able to notice a small chink underneath its 'chin'. His instincts screamed for him to take the most efficient route, using his Semblance to get inside of its range and finishing the beast in a single strike.

But, he didn't.

_Ten._

"Under its chin!" He shouted, knowing that they could, at the very least, take advantage of that.

This situation was completely under control, nine skilled fighters were more than enough to pin and kill a Death Stalker of this age. He had already removed the biggest issue, the Nevermore, from the equation, and so he saw no reason for stealing his fellow Initiates' thunder. He stuck to the blonde's plan, dodging and parrying the Death Stalker's unyielding and quickening assault. Not a single effort reached him; Reflex, skill, and instinct melding together as Regalis and the Grimm danced for superiority over one another.

But he was losing. Quickly. Death Stalkers were not a Grimm type that could simply be _fought_. Teamwork and strategy were key elements of bringing one down, even for fully realized Huntsmen. This was a younger Death Stalker, and so while it wasn't quite the war-machine it would someday become, Silva was becoming aware of the fact that people didn't _duel_ Death Stalkers for a damn good reason.

It was faster than anything he'd ever fought, and by a _vast_ margin. His sword arm's muscles were beginning to creak and spasm, every parry or deflection felt like he was redirecting the momentum of a speeding mountain. He knew this couldn't last, that _he _wouldn't last.

But he did not stop. Tendons and muscles burned away in the firestorm that was his defensive efforts, such intensity only fueled by his knowledge that this was the _only_ guaranteed opening for them to finish it without anyone else being injured.

He had experience, he had skill that had been developed over an entire lifetime, and it was everything he had just to track this thing's moves.

These were trainees fresh out of Combat School.

_Twenty._

His vision narrowed, mind putting all thought and emotion aside and prioritizing focus. Each deflection came faster than the last, before long he was pouring Aura into his arms in spades just to keep up.

_Sidestep, parry, dodge, deflect, duck, dodge, parry, duck, sidestep, deflect..._

_Twenty-eight._

_Now._

He suddenly halted, and the Death Stalker took advantage, all of its weapons converging on Silva with the intent to completely pulverize him.

_You wish._

Aura gathered in his left hand and right foot, all of his remaining defensive capacity condensing into those limbs. He simultaneously caught each of them, pincers with his hand and foot, while Regalis caught the stinger mere _inches_ from his face. His body structure nearly crumpled like wet paper in that single instant.

"**Now!**" He roared, already feeling his strength beginning to fail. His muscles were completely shot, his Aura on the verge of collapse, and his mind drained. Only sheer willpower kept him from submitting to the monster's unforgiving might.

_Just thirty seconds of uninterrupted combat, and I'm barely conscious. Death Stalkers are more dangerous than they seem._

The sound of a high-caliber rifle firing barely registered beneath the sound of his own blood pumping, the ache of his tendons as they begged for release that he thought for an instant might never come.

Two flashes of red entered his vision, one slicing through the weak socket connecting its stinger to the rest of the tail. The appendage dropped, but something told Silva that he _needed_ to hold on for a little longer. The second blur of red slipped underneath the Death Stalker's pincers, impossible momentum slamming into the creature's face as ichor sprayed in fountains from its new wounds.

He felt the mountain of pressure from its pincers slacken completely, and he almost managed to keep himself conscious long enough to make out his saviors.

Almost.

His Aura suddenly flickered out, face flopping onto the ground and ichor soaking the side of his head. His grip on Regalis was limp, just enough to tell him that it was still there.

His perception faded to black.

* * *

**_With Ozpin..._**

The Headmaster of Beacon had seen many things in his history. He had seen unimaginable evils, and nurtured great heroes.

Never, in his entire existence, had Ozpin witnessed something _quite_ like this.

Granted, it wasn't nearly as grandiose as those things, but Initiation Day was meant to be a simple test of team efficiency, nothing more. For the context it was in, this was ludicrous.

An Initiate had just slain a Nevermore the size of two Bullheads, single-handedly, in two precise blows. Immediately after, he went on to duel a Death Stalker twenty times his size and did so to utter perfection. Not a single wasted movement, not an ounce of doubt or weakness for the entire thirty seconds he battled the Grimm.

Not even Qrow had done anything quite so absurd during his tenure at Beacon. Much less on his first day.

Up until now, the Branwen twins had been the single most impressive individual Huntsmen that he'd ever encountered. Both had mastered their skills in combat to insane degrees, keeping up with Maidens and Huntsmen-killer level Grimm alike.

But this?

This was a seventeen-year-old. Without a partner.

And then he did something that absolutely baffled the millenia-old Wizard.

He stopped, completely, and the Death Stalker attempted to crush the boy with all of its appendages at once. He then proceeded to literally _catch_ both the pincers as well as the stinger. He held the pincers at bay with a hand and a foot, allowing his sword to lock its main offense in place.

He had deadlocked with a Death Stalker.

Thankfully sense returned to the world when Miss Rose and Miss Nikos intervened, using the intentional opening to dispatch the beast quickly. The moment he was able to breathe again, his Aura shattered and the boy dropped to the ground, utterly exhausted. Ozpin was momentarily relieved that the kid at least had the stamina for his age. But everything else spoke of experience, of genuine life-or-death combat.

He would have to speak with him the moment he recovered.

"Perhaps we've found a more suitable guardian, Glynda?" She scoffed, before reviewing the footage once more.

"Let's not be too optimistic just yet, Ozpin. Our enemies only draw nearer." He smiled, softly, but said nothing more.

_It would seem that our fortunes may yet turn, possibly even to our benefit._

This boy would be important. It was imperative for him to gain his trust.

* * *

**_With Silva..._**

He hated hospitals.

Waking up in Beacon's infirmary had been... a jolt, to say the least.

Waking up to four people surrounding his bed? Nearly gave him a heart-attack. If he'd had Regalis, someone may have even died.

Then he noticed who exactly they were.

Ruby, who seemed upset, but broke into a smile when she noticed his wandering eyes.

Nikos, who was simply sitting there with a grateful expression on her face.

There was the blonde, the strategist that had granted them a sound victory over the Death Stalker. He was obviously tired, eyes drifting shut even as Silva began to sit up.

And, to his genuine surprise, Cardin. His partner, who he'd entrusted with their relic. The prick's eyes narrowed when he notice his partner beginning to stir.

"There, it's awake. I'm done here." He briskly stomped out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him. Silva didn't really care, if the bastard wanted to be a stuck-up little bitch about his partner being a Faunus, so be it. Though, the temptation to murder the imbecile was _very _strong.

The others gawked at the door, caught off-guard by Cardin's blatant disrespect.

"Ignore him. My partner isn't exactly _pleased_ with my heritage." He spoke, causing the three to look back at him.

"Yeah, jerk. Wish he'd just be happy he passed at all." The blonde mumbled, his head resting on his palm. Silva was surprised the boy was awake enough to notice. Ruby rushed over to him, careful not to bump into his cot. He noticed a few rose petals trailing her, assuming it to be her Semblance. She was nearly bursting with excitement, vibrating in place with even more small rose petals falling from seemingly nowhere.

"HOW DID YOU DO THAAAT!?" She squealed, causing the sleep blonde to jerk awake again, eyes wide with temporary alertness. After about a second he seemed to catch on to what Ruby was referring to, a glint of curiosity blooming in his eyes as well. "I was... kinda wondering about that, too. I just asked you to keep it busy so Ruby could have a chance to reload, not fight it till you dropped!" The guilt and concern was evident.

"I know. I wanted to provide an opening that would ensure a killing blow. I needed it to be solely focused on _me_ for that to be possible, or else it might have countered. If I'd done anything else it may have remembered the rest of you, and to be frank, things would have gotten more complicated than I wanted to bother with. I did what I had to do." His explanation obviously just confused the three even more, each of them looking at him like he was insane.

"We could have helped you! Do you even realise how much of a risk that was!?" The blonde was now fully alert, chastising him for being reckless. Silva chose to ignore it, none of them would have been able to handle that Death Stalker. He did what was necessary to ensure the safest victory possible.

"He's right, you know." Nikos spoke up for the first time, her voice somewhat subdued. "You're acting like you had to protect us. All of us trained _hard_ to get into Beacon, we certainly aren't helpless. I get that you didn't want to take a chance, but you didn't have to push yourself so hard to do it. We all got accepted on our own merit," It was impossible not to notice the blonde tense up slightly at the mention of training and merit.

_Secrets will only land you in a deeper pit, blondey._

"and I think you should at least give us a chance to prove it." She finished, and he took a couple of moments to think about her point.

"I respect that, and I didn't particularly _mean_ to come across that way. I do understand that each of you has trained for years to get here, I just didn't want to give any room for mistakes. You saw how fast that Grimm got when it realised I was a threat, do you think that all of you would have been able to keep up? I doubt that. I apologize for undermining and underestimating your strengths, but I wasn't going to give it a chance to do _anything_ but die."

Silence reigned for nearly a full minute, none of them sure of what to say. He took that as a chance to look himself over. Nothing seemed to have slipped past his Aura, but he could tell that his reserves were still somewhat low, enough for him to still feel the _burn_ of his muscles. He'd pushed himself this far before, a few times, actually, and each instance had felt like he was soaking in a cauldron of molten steel.

He knew from experience, however, that this pain was fleeting. Within a day or two his Aura would recover enough for the damage to his muscular structure to heal over, and then he'd be back to normal. Pain was, at the very core, a mental reaction. One that could be ignored so long as Aura still coursed through his Soul. It was hard to remember that truth at times, it always felt so _real_, but the only real thing he was feeling right now was exhaustion. Obviously his muscles had indeed suffered real damage, but Aura would fix that soon, so it could be ignored.

What he could not ignore, was how heavy his body felt. How drained and _sick_ of activity his mind had become. His eyes were barely strong enough to stay open_._

He needed _sleep._

Before any of them could speak further, Silva noticed that none other than the _Headmaster himself_ was standing in the doorway, sipping his mug of... whatever it was, while giving them all a mischievously conniving smirk. The sound of the liquid sliding down Ozpin's throat caught the three's attention, all of them straightening up and giving the Professor their undivided attention.

"Good evening, students. I was informed, just now, by Mr. Winchester that his partner had woken up. I'm pleased to see I was not mislead." He took a few measured steps forward, entering the room and locking eyes with Silva.

"Are you feeling well, Mr. Taro? There is something I'd like to discuss, if you are feeling up to it."

Silva would have normally refused, he was tired, and ready to just _sleep_.

"It concerns the events of yesterday's Initiation."

_God damn it._

"Fine." He nearly growled, and he could tell that Ozpin noticed, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Wonderful. Now," He looked at the three surrounding him, "may we have some privacy?" They nodded simultaneously, giving Silva a concerned look before shuffling out of the room in short order.

Ozpin's demeanor suddenly flipped. The instant those three left, his gaze sharpened as he pulled up a chair to sit in. His eyes bored into Silva with such intensity and urgency that the Taro nearly lost the will to maintain eye contact.

"I'll be quite blunt, Mr. Taro. What you did during Initiation was incredible, unheard of at the Academy, and that sort of talent is a very _rare_ thing to find nowadays. I'm hear to ask a few questions, none of which you are _obligated_ to answer, and to make an offer depending on the answers you give." The Headmaster took another brief sip from his mug.

"Are you comfortable with that, Mr. Taro?" He asked, causing Silva to simply nod. It was rediculous to him that a mere man could paralyze him so utterly, just his presence was enough to make him feel... _small._

"Very well. To begin, I'd like to know where you recieved your training in swordsmanship? Again, do not feel pressured to share. It is your choice to answer, if you aren't comfortable then simply ask me to move on."

Immediately Silva felt like being defensive. Why would he want to know that? The look in Ozpin's eyes told him that there was a very important point to all of this, he almost even seemed _desperate_.

So, he chose to relax. Ozpin had no reason to use his past against him, his job was to raise future Huntsmen, not interrogate them.

"I've been training for as long as I can remember. My family started me off, but due to certain circumstances I had to pretty much teach myself after I turned eleven." He noticed the look in the Headmaster's eyes turn to one of curiosity.

"Fascinating. What about after you family left the equation? Don't feel the need to hold back, you've earned your place at this Academy. I will not judge you for the cards life dealt you."

His breath caught in his throat, and it was every speck of will he had not to flinch.

_He knows._

This wasn't a trick. He _knew_ Silva was connected to the White Fang, the coy look on his face made it painfully clear. What troubled him further was how genuine the last bit sounded. As though he was willing to completely accept Silva's truth.

And he believed it.

"Um... okay. I was taken in by the..." His words trailed off, flashes of blood and flames passing through his mind as he recalled the first meeting with his _brother._

"Are you alright, Silva?" The use of his first name ripped him from his memories, causing him to refocus himself.

_Focus on the present._

"My family was killed by the White Fang when I was ten. They took me in, fed me, raised me. In exchange, I fought for them. At first, I hated it. All I could think about was how much I missed my family." He paused, drawing in a soothing breath.

"But eventually I came to accept it. I couldn't change my past, so I focused on my duties in the Fang. I started to love them, and the cause we rallied under. It was noble, _just._ Then Ghira stepped down, and everything flipped. We weren't a movement anymore, we became a _machine_. We didn't fight for freedom, we fought for _revenge_." He seethed through gritted teeth. Pent-up anger and contempt he hadn't felt in weeks boiled up, burning just beneath the surface. He would never forgive that _witch_ Sienna for what she turned them into. What she nearly turned _him_ into.

"So I left. I abandoned a sinking ship." And it had been the most difficult, _painful_ decision he'd ever make.

Ozpin remained silent, taking in his story and showing no surprise or anger in his eyes. He just... _listened._

There was something about that, it just felt good for someone to not instantly proclaim him a monster, or a terrorist, or anything. The Professor just sat there, drinking from his glass and abosrbing his tale objectively.

Finally, after a few seconds of silence, Ozpin spoke. Silva could see the remorse, the empathy, behind those eyes. He was not judging him, he was not profiling him.

He _cared._

"I must say, I'm sorry your life has been so harsh. It pains me to know the strife you must have endured, and I can't begin to express my gratitude for your honesty. As I said, however, I will not condemn you. Such a thing would be unfair and cruel, given how much you've sacrificed to be here." He then stood, pacing to Silva's bedside before stopping.

"I have but one more question for you, Mr. Taro, and I must ask that you forgive the vagueness of it."

He looked up at the Headmaster, nodding once more. How could he possibly refuse?

"Thank you. Now, tell me, Silva, do you believe in fairy tales?"

* * *

**Hello again!**

**Now, before anyone flips their table, that was _not_ Oz bringing Silva into the fold. The question has a different purpose here, one that will be explained later on.**

**So here's another larger than average chapter, covering Initiation and a part of Silva's backstory. Yes, there is much more. What he told Oz was the bare-bones version, with a lot of information and specifics left out.**

**Note that I purposefully didn't have Silva and Cardin meet their other teammates. They reached the ruin very quickly, and everyone scattered to deal with the Grimm before the other pair could arrive.**

**On that topic, I plan on doing quite a bit with Cardin. Normally he gets bashed in every story I've read, so I'm going to try and give him a fair shot.**

**Now, I think some people may be confused with how Silva did what he did. The only reason he killed the Nevermore so easily was because he didn't give it a chance to actually fight back. He went for the quickest possible kill and managed it before the Grimm could really stop him.**

**The Death Stalker fight is a bit mixed. He only fought it like that because he didn't trust the others to be capable of killing it. He's never actually seen _any of them_ in action, so he took the route he _knew_ would work. But, he is right in a few ways. He's been training for literally 3/4ths of his entire life, and that means a lot. He was _not_ strong enough or fast enough to kill it without his Semblance, but he _was_ fast enough to keep up for a while, and was experienced enough to not fight its strength head on until the very last second. And, as you read, he couldn't keep any of it up long enough to do anything aside from keep it occupied.**

**I think that's all for now.**

**Buh-Bye!!!**


	3. First Lesson

**_-Semblance of Brotherhood-_**

_Chapter 3: First Lesson_

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Silva's eyes opened, only slightly, peeking at the basic looking alarm clock next to his cot.

_5:00 A.M._

_I should get to the dorm. No point being here any longer._

_Beep! Beep! Be- ***click***_

He reached out, hitting the power switch for the alarm, and pushed himself into an upright position. A white-ish blue glow enveloped the dark room as he pulled his Aura to the surface. It felt warm, complete. His body felt perfect, no aches or burns now that his Aura had revitalized. The haunting, pale glow faded back into shadow, his sight adjusting quickly, given his heritage.

He studied himself, noting exactly ten separate electrodes on his body. He peeled them off, swinging himself over the side of the cot before stopping to dangle his legs for a few seconds. The tingling, spiky sensation of a lack of blood flow began to fade, and the moment it had vanished he hopped to his feet.

_Clothes_.

His eyes darted around the room, quickly noticing a locker near the door. He briskly paced over to it, pulling it open to see two separate outfits neatly folded inside. One he recognized as his own clothing, a stark white jacket with black cotton lining the inside of it, the silver depiction of a dice pinned to its chest. The collar folded over, and a line of black material ran up and down the sides of the sleeves. Underneath lay a pair of black jeans, his belt and Regalis set off to the side.

Next to that was what he assumed to be the school's standardized uniform. He dismissed it for the time being, setting the folded outfit to the side and retrieving his affects.

Didn't take long to get into his clothing, he draped the school uniform over one arm, Regalis held in the opposing hand. It was only then that he noticed the small piece of parchment stuck to the door. He flipped it up, glancing at the message.

_'Dormitory 3, Room 072. Team SCRL (Scarlet)'_

He slipped the note into his pocket before exiting his room, casting quick looks down the hall whill he walked. The place was mostly dead at this time, it was almost creepy how quiet it was. He kept following the signs that read 'reception', and before long he found himself crossing into a large lobby.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't notice you wake up on the readings. Would have helped you get everything sorted out." A surprised voice instantly set him off, his frame tensing as his blue orbs locked onto the speaker. It was a woman, with aurburn hair and dullish green eyes.

"I'm alright, thank you though. Am I set to head back to my dorm?" A look of confusion crossed her face.

"But sir, it's only five in the morning. Surely you'd at least want a full night's sleep?" Her concern was evident, and seemed genuine. It was strange, in the last couple of days he'd encountered more altruism than he'd once thought existed in the world.

"No, I'd rather get a head start. Got to put away my things, maybe settle in for a while before classes start. I appreciate the concern." He didn't slow, leaving the infirmary now that he knew it wasn't forbidden for him to leave yet. Weaving through the halls of the Academy was rather informative, as he'd yet to wander this area of the campus.

Finally, he ascended to the third floor and Dorm. He ignored the rest of the rooms, his eyes locking onto the number '072'. When he reached it he took a quick glance at the note again.

_'Dormitory 3, Room 072. Team SCRL (Scarlet) Room Code: 2419'_

Internalizing the information, he dialed in the code. There was small 'click' before he was able to turn the knob and open the door. He silently slipped inside, already making out three prone forms on the different beds. The fourth bed lay empty, as expected, and he simply dumped what he was carrying onto it. He shed his jacket, now clad only in a black tank top and his jeans. For a moment he just sat on the foot of the bed, letting the complete quiet soothe his mind.

_Focus on the present._

Letting out a huff, he fastened Regalis to his hip. Letting his hand rest upon her pommel was comfort, it reminded him of just what he was here for.

_Time to get moving._

* * *

**_With Cardin..._**

It wasn't right. Who in their right mind would put a _Faunus_ in charge of _his damn team!?!_ When he'd heard the news, it'd taken every sliver of self control he had to not reject it. How did anyone expect _him_ to fold to the orders of one of _them!?_

And worse, the little freak didn't understand his place in the food chain. At every turn that he'd attempted to put _Silva _in his place, he'd been met with reprimand and disinterest. Then, when it finally _was_ shown its true station on the pecking order during Initiation, all of the others had acted as though it were some _hero_.

_Disgusting. All they deserve is what the Schnee's give the_

Anger spread like fire through his body, heart pumping harshly as he shoved his foot into the leg of the uniforms they were required to wear. His other two teammates seemed to share in his disdain, though their fury wasn't as _honed_ as his own was. All they knew was that their leader was to be an _animal._

"Any chance we could rearrange the team? I mean, they can't expect us to obey _livestock_, can they?" The one to his left, Lark, whined. His sentiment seemed to spark up hope in the one on his right, Russel.

"I think that makes sense. I mean, they can't have meant for this to happen. It's rediculous!" His voice was nearly grating to his ears, but the idea had at least a little merit. Except...

"No, that won't work. Headmaster Ozpin assigns leadership himself. _You_ want to take it up with him?" He was met with silence. At least he didn't have to repeat himself.

Just as they were finishing up their morning preparations, each of their heads snapped up as the door to the dorm suddenly unlocked. It swung open, and his subsiding anger flared anew as his eyes met those of his partner, and their team's _leader._ They'd noticed his jacket and uniform both set on the foot of his bed when they woke up, and had considered 'misplacing' them. Cardin, however, had quickly dismissed the idea.

"I see you three are awake." He stated, sweat glistening on his head and arms. Though, he didn't seem geuinely tired in the least. They were silent for a moment, none of them wanting to even acknowledge Silva's presence.

"Yeah, and unlike _you_, we're actually ready for class." Cardin gritted out, standing up and walking over to the small kitchen. He didn't have the patience for dealing with a damned _dog_ right now. Quickly, he began to start up some coffee.

* * *

**_With Silva..._**

That'd been... a rather odd welcome, all things considered. He'd fully expected the situation to devolve into immature violence in short order. Instead, he was met with mostly just silence.

"Either of you care to tell me your name?" He ventured, but he didn't expect much.

The shorter one spoke up first, his voice laced with venom.

"Russel Thrush. Care to tell me exactly why the Headmaster thought a _mutt_ would be qualified to lead our team?" The boy seethed, clenching his fists. His boldness seemed to inspire the other, who's lanky frame straightened.

"Yeah, why the hell did he put us with one of _you__? _If anything, Cardin should be leader. At least he's the same _species__!_"

_Boldly stupid, then. Ozpin, why in **fuck** did you stick me with these idiots?_

He felt his eye twitch of its own accord, his body tensing. Every part of him wanted to _slaughter_ these fools. They were like clones of each other, all varying degrees of racist bigots. They'd been trained at a private Combat School, no doubt. Only there could you ever find the single-minded brainwashing these boys had embraced.

_Well, I guess a single **lesson** wouldn't hurt them._

"Then I think we have some issues to discuss during _Combat Class_, don't you all?" If they thought he wasn't capable, that was an easy thing to fix. If they apologized, he might even avoid breaking a limb.

"You wanna fight, then let's fucking go already you filthy piece of gar-" Thrush's words died in his throat, a horrifying, cold sensation creeping up his back. Merely tapping into the control he had over his Semblance had allowed Silva to blanket the boy in the same cold, empty void that he felt every time he used it. Only, Russel hadn't been prepared for it. The look on his face said enough, he was done.

Silva's eyes flicked over to the other, the focus of his surface level Semblance use shifting to the taller boy as well. The effect was immediate, and killed any words he had left. He knew what they were feeling, the hopeless sense of futility that encroached on one's mind while interacting with the shadows. It was a feeling that he'd become accustomed to some time ago, but for them it was still fresh. It struck them with the fear of something they would likely never understand, and he'd barely applied any _real_ effort into the display.

This use of his Semblance was ineffective against Grimm, as they literally _were_ darkness, but it worked wonders against humans and Faunus who couldn't adapt to it.

Both of them shuffled out of the room, desperate to gain some distance from him. A few seconds later Cardin returned from the kitchen, coffee mug in tow. He completely ignored Silva, exiting the room after his teammates. Based on the confused look on his face, he'd felt it.

_Let's hope that's enough to shut them up. I don't need them bickering with me at every opportunity._

* * *

Stepping out of his dorm, Silva immediately noticed several familiar faces. He noted Nikos, as well as the blonde. With them were two others, one a boy with raven hair and a pink highlight, the other a girl with firey ginger hair. They were just finishing descending the steps from the fourth floor, and the blonde brightened up upon seeing him.

"Hey, feeling better, I guess?" Silva gave him a 'no shit' look.

"Well, seeing as I'm fit for class, I'd imagine so." His words were met with an awkward pause.

After nearly five seconds, the boy finally seemed to remember what he was going to say. "Oh, by the way, my name's Jaune. Can't believe we've talked three times and I never mentioned it. Ruby told me your name was Silva or something, is that right?"

He nodded, and the newly named 'Jaune' seemed to relax a bit.

"Awesome. I'm, like, absolutely terrible with names."

"I can tell."

That earned a laugh out of the boy, though it was little more than a passing chuckle. Before either of them could speak again, Phyrra elbowed her leader in the shoulder. "We're going to be late, Jaune." His eyes snapped open fully, and Silva was barely able to discern a 'See you around!' as the four of them sprinted down the hallway.

_Such an odd boy. To think, he's commanding an entire team._

_Almost laughable._

He then reached out with his Semblance, his body beginning to shift into the shadow cast on the wall by his frame. The moment he fully merged with the dark, he cast his senses outward, feeling all of the possible places for him to appear. To his surprise, there weren't actually all that many. A vast majority of the school was illuminated.

If he remembered correctly, his first class was History, with Oobleck. Honing in on the room, he traversed the shadows. Within a couple of seconds he was just outside, behind something that was hanging on the wall. He slowly released his grip on the darkness, his body emerging from it and pushing the painting back, allowing him to slip out from under it.

He checked around him, not noticing anyone within line of sight, and set the tapestry back into its proper orientation. Just as he finished doing so, he noticed Jaune and his team round a corner, sprinting straight for the doors to his left.

_Shit. Oh well, no secrets for little old Taro, hm?_

It was an instant later that they seemed to realize who he was, all of their faces twisting in confusion before skidding to a stop. Jaune just looked at him for a moment, at a loss for words.

"Semblance. Makes getting around pretty easy." He decided to give them the short version, at least for the time being. Jaune seemed to accept it, though he still seemed slightly confused. The only person who seemed dissatisfied with his explanation was the quiet one, who gave him a very _specific_ look that he didn't exactly understand.

The four of them seemed to realise something yet again, blasting into a sprint for the classroom doors. They nearly made.

_Nearly._

Just as Phyrra's hand grasped the knob, the bell sounded for class to begin. Cursing himself, Silva once again tapped into his Semblance, looking for a seat that wasn't occupied by a shadow. The instant he did, he slipped out of the shadows in a hurry. His form was balled in on itself, having barely fit into the shade beneath the desk. Quickly, he pushed himself up into the chair, his hair slightly disheveled.

When he looked up, he was met with a green head of hair and silvery glasses staring at him from about two feet away. The Professor stared at him for a couple of seconds, before take a blindingly fast sip from his coffee mug.

"Late! Though it was a valiant effort." The words nearly outpaced his ears, syllables blurring together in a tangled web of language. How were humans supposed to learn from this guy? He talked like his brother fought.

The realization that Oobleck had crossed the room to intercept Jaune's team an _instant_ later didn't register until the teacher had already gotten to his podium.

He retrieved his pen and notebook, and prepared to try and decipher the blur of a lecture.

* * *

**_Later..._**

_I think my hand's broken._

The humerous thought did little to stop the throbbing, piercing cramp that taken root in his hand. Every flourish of his pen brought forth yet another agonizing wave of pain, his penmanship at this point was nearly illegible.

Profes- no, _Doctor_ Oobleck, the green-haired blur of a teacher, was the most oblivious, air-headed _sadist_ he'd ever met. Sure, he was the only one aside from the **_Schnee _**and Nikos still keeping up, but all three of them were grimacing fiercely as they barely kept pace with the man. Silva wasn't even sure he was actually hearing the words he wrote down at this point, it just went from his ear straight to the page, there simply wasn't time to process it.

To his right, the other members of Team SCRL were mostly asleep. The only one actually awake was Cardin, who was paying at least _some_ attention. He looked like a kid who couldn't afford to just flunk out on a whim. Silva didn't blame him for not bothering with physical notes, however, and was actually mildly amused to notice Cardin holding his scroll under his desk, recording the lecture.

_At least you aren't completely useless._

The rest of History was a torturous blur, after that. Cardin had fallen asleep with his still recording scroll hidden underneath his crossed arms. Silva couldn't feel either of his hands, having hoped being ambidextrous might outlast the lecture. Obviously, it hadn't saved him. Nor had it saved Nikos, who was cradling her hands in her lap as the bell rang for class to end.

He hefted himself up, slinging his bag over his shoulder before looking over to his Teammates. They were awake, though a bit drowsy.

"Up, now. We've got Combat Class next, and if I recall, you three seem to have issue with my leadership. I won't bother if you slackers are too out of it to fight properly." He snapped, causing them to stiffen slightly, before scowling at him.

Cardin was the first to speak in return, standing straight and stuffing his scroll into his pocket, "Fine by me, _dog_. What terms?" He growled.

"You three against me. I'll speak with Goodwitch about it before class starts. I'll be there long before any of you." If they wanted to let him make the rules, so be it. He'd make sure they understood just what a _Dog_ was capable of when provoked.

_Fucking racists._

The three of them gave him an incredulous stare, before Thrush grinned maliciously. "Oh, this is gonna be great. That cockiness is gonna get you fucked up, freak." Silva's eyes narrowed.

"Keep fanning the fire, Human. Only gonna make me enjoy this that much more." And without bothering to listen to their retort, he stepped into his own shadow and vanished.

He felt out the school once more, quickly honing in on the arena used for Combat Class and emerged in the shadow of a pillar within a second or two.

"Ah, I see someone's in a hurry. Something the matter, Mr. Taro?" Professor Goodwitch questioned, already making her way over to him. He gave the woman a shrug.

"I wanted to see if you'd be willing to let my Team use the arena to sort out some... authority issues. I figured it would make a good opening to your class, if you'd allow it." He offered, not surprised when she gave him a '_Seriously?'_ sort of expression, crossing her arms.

"Trouble already? My, usually the dysfunctionality doesn't creep up for a least a day or two. Then again, your particular Team composition isn't exaclty the most _hospitable._ Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have the first match pre-arranged. So long as it doesn't take up too much of my class time." She said, before leveling a cold look at him.

"Oh, no worries, I won't need very long. And I can promise not to rough them up too much." He reassured her, causing a small, amused smirk to cross her lips.

"Very well, then. It's not every year I get a situation as entertaining as this, and I'm sure the rest of your class will enjoy a three versus one."

**_Ten minutes later..._**

Silva stood, Regalis drawn at his side, across from his Teammates in the arena. Each of them looked eager, almost hungry. He couldn't help but audibly scoff at the irony there. The only one who seemed off was Cardin. No doubt because he was the only one of the three to see him fight.

"Something funny, little man?" Thrush barked, brandishing his daggers with a heated glare. Silva didn't answer, instead giving Professor Goodwitch a thumbs up to begin the countdown.

"Our first match of the day will commence in ten seconds. Remember, children, the battle ends when your opponent falls into the red. For Mr. Taro, that applies to all three of his teammates. Are you comfortable with that, Mr. Taro?" She asked, glancing at him. He nodded, eyes flicking back to his opponents.

"Then begin in three," Cardin drew his Mace.

"Two," Lark readied his Halberd.

"One," Silva shifted into a low stance.

"Now!"

All three of them burst into a sprint, Cardin peeling off to the side while Thrush and Lark charged head-on. The two had some level of basic teamwork, likely from fighting Grimm together during Initiation. That was good. Meant he wouldn't have as much work to do whipping them into a cohesive unit.

Just as Thrush lunged at him with both daggers raised, Silva pivoted off of his rear leg, cutting a blistering one-eighty while driving his other leg into the Human chest in a brutal straight-kick.

As Russel caved against the blow, he switched feet and slung his leg around to catch the shaft of Sky's halberd with his shin. In a swift motion his leg wrapped out and around the hilt, grabbing the weapon with the inside of his knee. He yanked Lark close and smacked the flat of Regalis against his jaw, before releasing his halberd and slamming a brutal axe-kick into his arm.

His ears picked up the sound of Cardin chambering his Mace's ranged function, and just as he fired, Silva fell into Thrush's shadow. Lark was forced to duck the rogue projectile.

"What the fuck was that!?" Lark shouted, his head snapping in a directions. Russel was just staring at where Silva had been a moment ago, his daggers held in white-knuckled grip.

Cardin answered, "It's his Semblance! Watch you sha-" Before he could finish, Silva had reformed behind the Winchester and delivered a solid thrust to the small of his back. Cardin didn't falter much, whipping around in retaliation with a sluggish swing of his weapon. While he could have conceded his offensive and back-stepped, Silva instead decided to suddenly drop to his back, catching himself with his free hand, and as the Mace sailed through where he'd just been, he slashed a Cardin's wrists.

Before sinking back into his own shadow.

"Ah! Fucking shit!" Cardin seethed, Aura flaring as he started moving back to form a tight formation with the others.

"You alright, Cardin?" Russel asked, keeping his eyes peeled for where their leader might appear next.

"Fucking fantastic. Alright, you two try and keep pressure on him whenever you can. He thinks that stupid Semblance is going to win this for him, but I've got something that'll throw that out the window." He explained, the other two nodded firmly as Silva rose from the shadow cast by Sky's weapon.

"Good." Was all he said, before his blade lashed out at them. Cardin shoved his teammate aside, catching the strike on his sturdier weapon before kicking at Silva's stomach. The Faunus had already disengaged the deadlock by then, however, cutting a tight rotation and landing two untraceable blows to Cardin's shoulder and hip. His momentum shifted as he threw himself back, slipping a powerful thrust of Lark's weapon.

_Now let's see this ace of yours, Cardin._

Cracking a small smirk, Silva pulled _hard_ on his Semblance, his Aura flashing as his body began to meld with the shadows once more. This time, however, he didn't wait. An instant later he'd surfaced behind Thrush, ripping Regalis across his back. Without hesitation, he flickered into the darkness just long enough for Cardin and Sky to turn back in surprise. Just as they did, he snapped back into existence and laid into the both of them from behind, carving into their already yellow Aura before throwing Cardin to the very edge of the arena with a burst of his own Aura.

Regalis danced in and out of Thrush and Lark's striking range in a blur of white, never ceasing its momentum as it sliced against their Auras, parried their assaults, and knocked aside all attempts at defence. This moment where Cardin had been temporarily removed from the frey served as an ample opportunity to whittle the other two down, and Silva had always been taught to seize _every_ advantage he could muster.

Then, while in the midst of simultaneously deflecting Sky's blade and sidestepping series of violent slashes from Thrush, his ears once again caught the subtle click of Cardin's Mace chambering a round.

_Here it comes._

An instant later the entire arena was suddenly basked in a bright, encompassing light. Having not thought to shield his highly light-sensitive eyes, the unexpected flashbang sent a piercing feeling of heat rolling through them. Normally, he'd have teleported the moment his eyesight was compromised.

_But there's no fucking shadows right now!_

The first blow came from behind, the razor point of Lark's halberd slamming into his left shoulder with enough force to knock Silva off-balance. Before he could think to retaliate, Thrush's daggers raked across his stomach before a heavy boot sent him stumbling into a bone-rattle Mace strike to his side. The sheer weight of it threw him to the ground, his body rolling for a but before he jammed a hand into the tile floor in order to stop himself.

_Cheeky... fuckers..._

With a grunt, he shoved himself back to his feet. Sunspots still danced across his vision, but he could see enough to tell that he was just shy of dipping into the red at this point. Thrush and Sky were just above him in terms of Aura, while Cardin was still at about half-capacity.

_That was... a good plan... if I'm being honest..._

"See that, boys? One more solid hit and we've got this in the bag!" Cardin cheered, the other two smirking in anticipation.

They began to edge closer to him, and already Silva's eyesight was clearing up. Had they followed up without hesitation, instead of boasting, they might have landed that final blow.

Maybe.

Alas, before any of them could so much as _blink_, Silva had closed the distance between them, flashing past the three while lashing out with Regalis in two concise arcs.

_"Russel Thrush and Sky Lark have been eliminated via Aura depletion." _A monotone voice blared through the intercom, causing the two in questions let out a shared groan of frustration as they picked themselves up. Cardin, on the other hand, looked downright _scared._

Silva did the boy a favor, and sheathed Regalis. After taking a couple of steps towards him, the Winchester let a feral cry before charging him head-on.

The Human led with a half-hearted overhead swing, to which Silva merely stepped off to the side while jerking his knee into Cardin's chest, causing the plate of armor over him to buckle and crack as Silva funneled a large portion of Aura into the counter.

The sheer force of it was enough to send the boy tumbling over the edge of the arena.

_"Cardin Winchester has been eliminated via Ringout, the winner of the match is Silva Taro." _As the dead-sounding voice droned his victory, he left the arena with a hand clasped over his forehead, a powerfuly migraine already setting in from the flashbang.

* * *

**_In the boy's locker room..._**

His head was absolutely throbbing, now. Every blink of his eyes sent a pulse of deep pain through his entire skull. Just as he set Regalis inside his locker, he was able to pick up the sound of his Teammates finally making their way back to change into uniform.

None of them spoke to him, in fact they never even _looked_ at him while they changed, which only served to annoy him all the more.

"The three of you did pretty well, this time" He said, causing them to all turn and glare at him. Russel even went as far as to spit on the ground at Silva's feet.

"Fuck you, short-shit! You think just because you're a slippery littler _bitch_ of a fighter, that means anything!? We would ha-" Silva was in his face before he could finish, hand locked around the boy's throat in a vice-grip. Instantly it felt like the temperature dropped ten degrees. Neither Cardin or Sky dared to move.

"Let me make this perfectly clear, _Human_, I don't expect us to get along. Hell, I don't even expect you to follow orders," He growled, pulling Russel closer. "But I _do_ expect you to keep that mouth shut when I'm talking. Now," He continued, shoving Thrush into a bench just behind him.

"You all did well, none of you were any less effective than each other. That stunt with the flashbang? Pure genius. Had you kept focus and followed up before my sight returned, you'd have won without question. However, I noticed that not a single one of you bothered to use your Semblance. Why?" He prodded, looking specifcally at Cardin.

"Well, _I _did use mine. It's how we made the flashbang so big, I can overcharge Dust with my Aura." He said, still not looking Silva in the eye.

"And what about the other two?"

"They didn't find any good openings. You didn't give us very much room to breathe."

"Then what _are _their Semblances?" He questioned, turning to look at the two.

"Fuck off, freak. Like I'd tell you my damn Semblance." Thrush snapped, but Silva couldn't find the inclination to care. Sky, however, seemed a bit more willing.

"I can mess with the wind a little bit. Not really the most usefull Semblance." He explained, if not through clenched jaws. Silva couldn't help but just stare at the fool.

_Seriously? Does he not see the potential there!?_

"Sounds like you need to train with it more. All Semblances get stronger and more complex as your Soul develops, that includes toying around with it and seeing what all you can and can't do." He explained, causing Lark to give him a questioning look. "No Semblance is useless, no matter what it does. Would you believe it if I told you that at first my Semblance could only work at night?" His response was one of complete shock.

"Yeah. And it wasn't even that good, just let me basically turn invisible as long as I was in the dark. I only made it this capable by testing the boundaries of what it could do. I'd reccomend you doing the same." Having said his piece, Silva decided not to hang around any longer and vanished into the Cardin's shadow.

That left the three of them to just look at each other for a moment, before Russel stood up and slammed his fist into a random locker beside him. "Piece of fucking shit!" He shouted, "Who the hell does he think he is!? Some god damned therapist!?"

Cardin just bumped Sky's elbow, "Ignore that _freak_. He's just up his own ass because he won. We'll make sure to pay the little shit back." He promised, before the three returned to changing, Russel throwing on his uniform in a violent huff.

But, in the silence that followed, Sky couldn't help but wonder;

_Does Silva have a point?_

_

* * *

_

_**Hello again! Sorry for the massive delay, COVID's had my area all out of wack for a while.**_

_**So, thoughts on the rest of Team SCRL? I've put a lot of thought into what I want to do with them, and right now I can tell you that things are going to be completely different at Beacon by the time the Vytal Festival rolls around.**_

_**Also, I've had to put DASC on hiatus for a while. Just letting those who enjoy that story know. It will return, I promise, but I'm having some issues with it that will still take a while to sort out.**_

_**Well, that's all for now. Buh-Bye!!!**_


	4. Business

**_-Semblance of Brotherhood-_**

_Chapter 4: __Business_

The day went by quickly, after that. He had the chance to watch the **_Schnee_** fight a Boarbatusk and nearly eat shit doing so, which was infinitely satisfying. Even still, he heard not a single whisper from his Teammates for the rest of the day.

Until Lunchtime, that was. The moment he sat down to eat, literally the _instant_ his ass met the chair, he noticed the rest of his Team off on the other side of the spacious room. At first glance, it seemed only mildly strange, the three of them huddled up against a wall, but after a second take Silva picked up on something behind them.

_You've got to be kidding me._

There, cornered and alone, was a young girl with long, brown rabbit ears.

As soon as he realised what was happening, Silva melted into the shade cast by his table, and rushed over to them. He hesitated on reforming, stopping to listen for a moment before he made any assumptions.

"I mean, just look at it." Sky scoffed, poking the girl in her shoulder before grimacing, "I can't believe they're real." The undertone there... the _sarcasm_...Anger bubbled up in Silva's gut.

_Disgusting._

Satisfied that he had a good grasp of what they were up to, he rose from the darkness between them and the girl with a look of sheer _hate_ in his eyes. Instantly the three staggered back, all unsure of what to do.

"Fuck's your problem, Taro? Can't you see we were just curious about these?" Cardin said with a false smile, gesturing to the girl's ears. "Right?" He added, looking past Silva.

He could feel the poor girl's distress without even _seeing_ her. "Y-yeah... nothing's the matter, I... I'm fine."

For a moment, he didn't speak. Just stood there and processed what he'd just heard. After a couple of seconds, he looked over his shoulder at her, his gaze not softening in the least. Just that alone seemed to make her flinch.

"Just get out of here. Either figure out how to stand up for yourself, or find another career. Fighting isn't meant for _weaklings._" He growled, causing the girl to wince and sputter. "I said _leave!"_ He stressed, to which she began to shuffle away, before breaking into a half-hearted jog. Once she was gone, he turned back to his Team, who each looked rightfully confused.

"Do you three think I'm fucking _stupid _or something!? That I'd just _accept _that _pathetic_ excuse!? You _will_ leave that girl alone, and if I see _any of you_ pulling some shit like this again I will make sure _no-one _finds your bodies!" He roared, a back-handed punch colliding with Cardin's jaw before the boy could react. The Human slammed back first into the floor, clasping his mouth in agony even as his Aura flashed against the strike. Neither of the other two seemed keen on joining him on the floor, just nodding with nervous eyes.

"None of us came here to feed our ego, you _dumbasses_, we came here to learn how to _fight__!_" He chastised, honestly not surprised when Russel snapped, and sent a fist flying at his face. His own hand intercepted the strike, their wrists clashing before Silva wrapped his hand around his Teammate's forearm. He pulled on the appendage, causing Thrush to stumble foreward, directly into a side-kick that threw the boy to his back. His eyes flicked dangerously over to Sky.

"I get it!" He exlaimed, raising his hands between the two of them. Silva didn't budge.

"Get what, Lark?" He asked, taking a measured step toward the boy. The moment of hesitation, of apprehension, said what the Human could not.

_Coward._

Loosing a growl, he stomped past Sky, shoving him aside with a firm shoulder bump. Just as he was about to leave the cafeteria, a stern voice called after him, "Mr. Taro!" Goodwitch shouted, stalking after him with a furious scowl. He kept walking, crossing into the hallway and turning a corner, before leaning back against the wall and waiting.

It didn't take her but a couple of seconds to catch up. She rounded the corner on him, "Where do you think you're going, Mr. Taro?"

"Right here. I'm not a fan of crowds." Not the real reason, but that didn't matter. This was something he needed to explain in a calmer environment, the buzz of the cafeteria didn't help.

She didn't seem all too convinced.

"Explain yourself, young man. I don't have context, all I actually saw was you attacking your Team." She explained.

"Simple. They were bullying another Faunus, so I made it clear I wouldn't tolerate such immaturity."

"And how is assaulting them _mature_ in any respect?" She shot back, to which he cracked a small smirk.

_She's sharp._

"We're in a school meant for warriors, Mrs. Goodwitch. You of all people should understand that Huntsmen tend to be stubborn, and you can only break that wall by tearing it down with force. Words alone would have done absolutely nothing to change their minds, just make their own views stronger. I don't know about you, but I'd rather snuff an issue out completely than let it fester." She didn't seem to have a ready response to that.

"So... you're telling me that you keep beating on your Team for their own good? Forgive me, Mr. Taro, but your history makes that somewhat hard to believe." She said. He nodded, to which her scowl deepened. "Normally, such discipline is to be expected of a Team Leader. Your situation is not 'normal', as we both know, and I frankly don't trust a _murderer_ to show restraint." Now it was his turn to scowl.

"You think I _wanted_ the Fang to turn into a bunch of terrorists!? You think that once they did, I could just stop upholding my duties and abandon ship!? That's not how it works, you can't just _quit_ when things get too intense, that's grounds for execution! I couldn't back out if I _tried_, and the only reason I got away is because I was exiled!" The words just spilled out, he didn't think about it or filter anything. Despite having been distanced from it for so long, her blunt words had rubbed away at his constraint and left it raw and fresh all over again.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

"Mr. Taro, I-"

"Stop. I'm not angry with you." He sighed, laying his head against the wall and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to Vale for a while. Need to clear my head or this'll just keep eating away at me. Would you be willing to clear that with Ozpin?" He asked, her gaze softening somewhat before taking on a more neutral look.

"I'll let him know. But, do remember that anything you miss will be your responsibility to handle. I may not be opposed to allowing you some space, but this is still Beacon. I can't afford to let our students off easy just because of personal issues." She said. He let out a mirthless chuckle.

"Heh, yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

**_Later, in Vale..._**

Stepping out of the Bullhead, Silva immediately stepped into a brisk walk, sifting through the crowded streets with the occasional 'Apologies, ma'am' or 'Pardon me, sir' until he eventually came upon an alley he recognised. He drew a second, black scroll from his pocket, swiping through his messages until he found the proper set of directions.

_"Downtown Vale, down the alley between Cafe Prime and that weird herb shop. Tell the bouncer that you're there on a business venture." - R.T._

_Let's hope this guy's good on his word._

He crossed the street, the smell of coffee and something... _greener_, wafted into his nose as he passed between the two stores. The alleyway stretched on for a while, and after a few steps he started to hear a faint, rythmic _thumping_ coming from further in. By the dullness of it, he could only assume that it was some sort of indoor music system.

_Please don't tell me..._

When he exited the alley, the first thing he noticed was the line of civilians, slowly filing into a dingy building's back door. Or, at least, that was what it looked like. At the door itself were two men, both wearing a matching black and red tuxedo.

He paced over to the two, who looked him over with a shared frown.

"Back of the line, kid. Only VIPs skip it." The right one explained, gesturing for Silva to move along. He didn't.

"I was supposed to be here on a business venture, not whatever these people are here for." He said, to which the bouncer raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Young, but I guess that's not my job to care about." The man remarked, stepping to the side. "Go on then, you're holding up the line."

Silva nodded his thanks, slipping past the man and into the building.

Music. Dancers. Alchohol. Tobacco smoke. Flashing, colored lights. He barely repressed a growl.

_I can't believe he thought this would be a secure meeting place_.

Doing his best to tune out all of the noise, he pushed through a group of partygoers and began to scan the room for...

_Ah. That was quick._

And what did he expect from the most arrogant, yet equally skilled, criminal on the face of Remnant? Roman Torchwick himself sat, a shot of liquor in his hand, at the bar, swirling the amber liquid with an amused smile.

Silva walked over, a hand resting on Regalis' pommel.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat, Torchwick snapping his head around before tilting his head back in a short laugh.

"Oum's sake, kid, you trying to give me a heart attack?" His only reply was a harsh glare. "Well, I guess we should find a more quiet spot to talk. Come along, then." He rose from his stool with a controlled swagger, leading Silva to an empty back room. There were two chairs across from a large couch, a coffee table separating them.

"Take a chair, I'm gonna go let Junior know I'm using this room." The thief said, stepping out when Silva nodded in response.

He sat down, taking the moment to inspect the room. It was... rather bland, to be honest. So much so that it set him on edge.

_Something's up. Roman's too eccentric to just pick some random room._

Focus sharpening, he gave the whole space a much closer look. Everything seemed fine, and for a moment he thought himself paranoid, until he noticed something odd about the lone candle that sat in the center of the table.

Endulging his curiosity, he leaned towards it and attempted to blow it out.

The flame didn't even shift as the air passed it.

"Huh, must be one of those trick candles. Weird." He droned, shoving down his first instinct to draw Regalis.

_Illusion? That's all I can think of. What's really in this room? Drugs? Weapons? Who's casting it?_

Dozens of theories flashed through his mind. Such a thing wasn't common. If it was an illusion, that meant Roman had acquired some new lackey with a nifty Semblance. That could be problematic.

Before he could ponder it any further, the door to his left swung open, Torchwick strolling through with his everpresent air of smugness.

He strode past Silva, flopping down onto the couch and drawing a cigar from seemingly nowhere, a lighter slipping from his sleeve to set the thing ablaze. He puffed on it for a moment, releasing the smoke with a long sigh. He looked almost overworked. Baggy eyes, mildly disheveled hair, the whole nine yards.

"So, to what do I owe the _honor_ of speaking with you again?" The crook asked, flashing a confident smirk.

"An offer. One that would benefit the both of us." Silva answered,

"Ah, I see. Okay, I'll humor you. How could a White Fang washout like you 'benefit' the most successful crime lord on Remnant?" Silva stifled a growl at that.

_Just get it over with._

"It's nothing complex. First, I just want to make it clear that while you _are_ the most quickly expanding in the business, you still have a lot of territory to claim if you want to be at the top of the food chain." He began, earning an amused sneer from Torchwick.

"That being said, I have a proposition for you. If you accept, I will personally assassinate every other crime lord in Vale, heirs included, in your name, solidifying you as the King of Vale's criminal underground virtually indefinitely." That, however, wiped the sneer off of Roman's face. He still looked doubtful, but Silva could tell that the meer mention of such a massive offer was nothing to scoff at.

"That... would be quite the favor. Life-changing, one might call it. One night and I'm suddenly the biggest and baddest in the Kingdom? That's a hard thing to resist. And what would you expect from me in return?"

"Two things. One: I want an in with you on any dealings you make with the White Fang."

"Odd, but worth the trade still. The second thing?" Silva leveled the man with a venomous glare.

"I want every _scrap_ of knowledge you possess in regards to a woman named Cinder Fall."

* * *

**_Hello again!_**

**_Bit of a shorter chapter, but the next one should make it worth while. Now, as I'm sure you guys are assuming, how Silva knows anything about Cinder and her plans will be explained next chapter. This is the point at which my story is going to stray from canon due to Silva's existence. He is not an idle player, and he has big plans._**

**_Nothing much else to talk about, Buh-Bye!!!_**


	5. Necessary Evils

**_WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER_**

* * *

**_-Semblance of Brotherhood-_**

_Chapter 5: Necessary Evils_

His history with Roman was a… complicated one. To say the least. It had been a completely chance meeting, just after he'd been drummed out of the Fang. He'd been, quite honestly, an unstable _wreck_ for the first few weeks after, and that led to him lashing out at pretty much anyone who so much as looked at him.

No surprise, then, that his first reaction to some random, entitled looking Human attempting to steal his Lien was to slug the bold bastard in his nose. Roman took it rather well, shrugging his failure off and offering Silva a drink within the same sentence.

It was something that he knew would settle his nerves, at least a little, so he accepted. Not like sharing a drink with a stranger had to lead to any sort of long-lasting acquaintance, right?

Well, that would have been the case, if not for the fact that Roman was one of the most interesting people that Silva had ever met.

They talked, the alcohol doing wonders to loosen Silva's tongue. He'd never had more than a couple of shots before that. A life of dedicated combat training tended to frown on the toxic liquid. By the time the liquor hit him, it was far too late. He said a few words too much, and that led to some of the other patrons taking _extreme_ issue with his continued existence. A fight broke out, and by the end of the night they had fled Mistral.

After that, Roman had decided to tell him about his _career_. Whether it was his addled, mildly smashed mind, or just swiftly brewed trust, Silva had no idea. He never bothered to question it, and neither did Torchwick.

The criminal mastermind got them into Vale not two days later, at which point they'd parted ways. He learned about Beacon that same day.

_And here I am, about to commit murder in the first degree on a school night._

The thought brought a dry smile to his face.

His eyes flicked down to his scroll, noting the time as a quarter to midnight. That meant his target would be coming home any minute now. He ran a whetstone down the edge of Regalis, the reflective white blade glistening in the light of a shattered moon. According to Roman, only two of the crime lords in Vale were known to actually have Aura. That was good. Meant he could do things quickly, and cleanly.

His ears perked at the sound of an engine approaching from the streets below his perch. He looked to the sound, eyes glazing over as he recognised the sleek, black car that he'd been told to look for. His lips set into a blank line, before he slipped out of sight.

He waited another moment, only moving when he heard the doors of the vehicle slam shut. Without making a sound, he fell into the darkness around him as easily as breathing. In the next instant, he was sitting in a dusty attic, the sounds of muffled conversation and laughter doing little to settle his conscience.

_Just do it and move on._

Easier said than done, though. But he was committed, now. No backing out.

Another hour went by before he felt the lights in the house cut out. He waited an extra half before he melted back into the shadows, slinking out of the black into what he assumed to be a closet. His ears stood firmly at attention, wary of even the slightest hint that his first mark was still awake. No sign came, just the slow, burdenless sound of a sleeping boy.

With more care than was likely needed, he slid out of the closet and took a brief instant to look around the room. It was messy, covered in clothes and garbage and haphazardly placed posters that Silva didn't recognise.

At first his conviction nearly shattered when he realised how _average_ this kid seemed. Probably had no idea what his father was doing yet. _No_, he stamped down on the thought. _He's been selected, consent or not. This syndicate will bounce right back unless I snuff out the whole thing_.

Slowly, he stalked over to the prone form that lay, back facing him, on the bed. Stopping a foot or so away, he lifted his blade, staring at Regalis as he gathered his resolve. _No matter what it takes._

Without another thought, his ivory blade sliced through the boy's spinal cord in a flash. There wasn't very much blood, he'd made sure to avoid severing any arteries. Just like the Nevermore at Initiation, the boy was dead before he could even wake. Crimson liquid slid from the wound, staining the sheets. He stood there for a moment, a strange, numb feeling spreading through his arms and chest as he eyed the blood which coated a tiny portion of Regalis' edge.

Killing used to draw such a _raw_ reaction out of him. Now, he just felt empty.

Flicking the blood from his weapon, Silva faded back into the darkness.

A second later he stepped out into a much larger, decorative room. He didn't let himself pay attention to any of it this time, silently striding directly up to the crime lord's bed. Both he and a woman lay there, likely his wife, curled in each other's arms. Silva stood there for a moment, contemplating. After a time, he resolved to reach for his belt, drawing a small blade that he'd picked up before staking this place out. He crouched, delicately sliding the blanket down just enough to have access to the man's back.

He brought the knife close, holding it just above the skin while he settled his aim on the small groove between vertebrae. With a miniscule burst of Aura, he drove the blade into his target's spine, again snuffing the life out of him before he could wake up.

Letting out a heavy breath, he slipped into his Semblance, leaving the home with a weight in his gut.

_Never gets easy._

* * *

**_Four hours later…_**

The next two marks went smoothly, neither having any prospective heir made it much simpler. Just slip inside, do the deed, and move to the next. However, thanks to Roman he had a feeling that these last two were going to be much more involved. He'd specifically saved the two Aura-users for last, so that in the event that things went south, he'd have at least dealt with the rest already.

Standing in the empty street, he leveled his scroll next to his human ear as the thing rang. After a couple seconds the sound ceased, followed by silence for a brief moment.

_"Ah, just the man I was hoping to hear from! Everything going well over there?"_ Roman asked, the slightest slur in his voice cluing Silva in that the bastard had elected to celebrate his soon-to-be debut as 'Vale's King of Thieves!' as he had so humbly put it.

"First three are dealt with. Are you going to tell me what the Aura-users' Semblances are, or am I going in blind?" He asked, earning a hearty cackle from the man. _Drunk fucker._

_"If I knew, you would too, pal!"_ Came the short, abrupt reply, followed by a sudden flat tone as the thief hung up on him.

"Fucking prick!" He growled, shoving the scroll into his pocket. Blind it was then, how wonderful. Not like that lack of knowledge could quite possibly get him killed, nooo. He'd be just _fucking_ peachy!

Pushing that frustration aside, Silva looked across the road to a large business building. According to Roman, it was a front for this syndicate's illegal activities, and the man who ran the show behind the scenes lived in a suite on the top floor. No family, no guards, nothing except the building's pre-installed security system stood between him and his target. Silva couldn't bring himself to feel eager for the fight he knew was coming. The first mark of the night had left a sour, guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

_Focus on the present._

Stepping into an alley, he tapped into his Semblance and crossed the street, shifting through the doors and slipping back into existence at the top floor. His head snapped from side to side, instincts bristling with the knowledge that his prey was not helpless this time. The floor was utterly vacant, not a single whisper of activity, as expected. It was a smart move, living somewhere so obscure and weird. No one would have thought to look here, if someone came looking to start trouble. Sadly, no one expected Roman to give out such information so easily, either.

He looked to the suite, made obvious by the ornate double-door that emitted a light glow from the seams. Sliding Regalis from its sheathe in a whisper of steel, he began to inch toward the room. He listened, closely, noting the sudden pause in the breathing he'd heard as he emerged from the floor.

_He knows I'm here_.

The thought had barely formed before the doors slammed open, suppressed gunfire peppering the cubicle beside him and pinging off of Regalis as he snapped the blade to deflect the few shots that would have hit him. His second to last mark stood in the doorway, a small automatic pistol and a large machete in either hand. He didn't register anything else. His target's appearance meant absolutely nothing.

As the man opened his mouth to speak, Silva rushed him, his blade slashing at a few different angles. The crime lord met each strike not with a parry or deflection, but with a violent assault of his own that resulted in the two of them almost banging their weapons against each other. He couldn't help but scowl at the thoughtless swordplay, dipping low and feinting a jab before reversing his momentum to knock the pistol from his foe's hands with a kick, which he followed up with another, genuine stab that grated against the man's Aura in a flash of orange.

"Fucki-" The curse was cut off before it could finish, Silva stringing another three blindingly swift slashes that ripped further into his mark's Aura reserves. Already he could tell that while yes, this man did indeed have Aura, he very clearly had no real skill to accompany it.

_Fool._

Before he could even recover from the small shower of blows, Silva took his opportunity. He took a long, firm step into the man's space, driving his elbow forcefully into his target's solar plexus with a substantial surge of Aura infused strength.

"Ack-!" The man gasped, saliva flying from his mouth as his diaphragm convulsed. As he began to stumble back, Silva fell into his own shadow, the top half of his body emerging behind the off-balance crime lord, and drove Regalis directly into the small of his back.

The blade snapped through the spine with a wet _crack_, before erupting from the stomach in a brief spurt of blood. Silva could feel the instant where every muscle in the man's body tensed erratically, before slumping back onto Regalis. He pushed himself the rest of the way out, shoving the body off of his sword.

He looked down at his weapon, and hands, scowl deepening as he realised just how much blood had leaked down onto him. Regalis' blade was almost entirely crimson now. His gloves were soaked.

_Least I don't have to keep them._

That had been… rather easy, compared to what he'd expected. He imagined that had he allowed the man to access his Semblance, assuming he had one, things would have been much more complicated. Actually, why was he even entertaining a 'what-if' scenario? The guy was dead, that was all that mattered.

He grabbed a washcloth from the restroom adjacent to the suite, running it down the length of Regalis for several minutes. Turns out a white blade made it very annoying to clean off, but he didn't stop until the sword looked absolutely spotless. He didn't need Ozpin or Goodwitch catching on to his late-night escapade.

In the following half-hour, he went about transferring all of the front-company's finances and shares over to Torchwick's personal cover-account, solidifying him as the undisputable owner of the syndicate's remaining wealth. The desktop didn't have any passwords protecting it, arrogant piece of shit probably thought no one would ever be able to get past him.

After the transfer was confirmed, he smashed the computer against the wall before using his Semblance to leave the building.

The indigo hue painting the city in the early dawn was a reminder that he was still on a timetable. Classes would begin in the next three hours, and he had two before his Team woke up. As long as nothing went wrong, he'd make it back before anyone became suspicious.

His final mark was supposedly scheduled to inspect an underground weapons manufacturing facility within the next fifteen minutes, in the industrial district of the city.

_Time to wrap the night up, I suppose._

He gave his neck a roll to the side, air bubbles popping inside the joints with a satisfying crackle, before breaking into a jog that would be mistaken by early-risers as a workout run.

He reached the factory with about three minutes to spare, by his count, and took up a position atop a large silo nearby that gave him a perfect view of the building. The only entrance he couldn't readily monitor was a loading dock near the back of the facility, but he'd easily spot any movement coming from it.

He sat there for another five minutes at least, before a line of non-descript black vans pulled up to the main entrance of the place, several armed men in business attire setting up a perimeter around the vehicles as who could only be his target stepped out of the van closest to the entrance.

_Something's off about him._

It wasn't anything Silva could tell with the naked eye, but the way that man carried himself... and the subtle scent of _blood_ that lingered around him...

_He's not to be taken lightly._

Best case, this was a byproduct of the violent lifestyle the man probably lived. Worst case? He was lethal combatant who had no qualms killing his foes on the spot. Right now, it was best to assume the latter.

Once the boss made it inside, half of the bodyguards filed in behind him, leaving at least six men patroling the outside of the factory. They each traveled individually, falling into a pattern that Silva knew came from repitition. This was a regular thing for them, no one down there actually expect anything to happen.

_Idiots._

He had a couple of options here. Either he could systematically kill off the ones on the outside, making his way into the complex and wiping out the entire group. Or, he could skip them, and slip inside to face the leader first. It all came down to time, really. Could he afford to take the time and kill _every single man_ that was here? It would be more effective and thorough, eliminating the risk of any survivors rising up to challenge Roman in the future. No doubt the dumbass would claim responsibility for tonight.

But, right now he decidedly _didn't_ have that time. He needed to decapitate the snake as quickly and brutally as he could.

So, pulling on his Semblance, he _moved_ from his perch to the rafters of the warehouse section of the building, where he could see a gathering of men, his mark included, discussing something amongst themselves. He didn't care to listen, instead eyeing each and every weapon that the group carried. The crime lord's men carried high-caliber semi-automatic rifles, six in total, while the man himself had a _massive_ six-cylinder revolver fastened to his thigh. The thing looked custom made, had a barrel thicker than any other weapon present and, at second glance, was loaded with explosive fire Dust rounds.

_That thing could take an Ursa Major's head clean off. One shot and my Aura'll be completely wiped._

The rest of the gangsters were armed with various low-grade pistols, with a shotgun slung on the back of the one speaking to the boss. It was very clear that he was displeased, snapping his fingers to signal the men behind him to take aim. The others looked horrified, not even having the sense of self-preservation to draw their own guns. The one with the shotgun seemed to almost beg, but by then the crime lord had already given the order.

A firestorm of bullets tore through them all, red mist and screams carrying in the air as the bodyguards unloaded into the gang. It lasted all of three seconds, before the deafening thunder ceased. Blood was literally everywhere, staining the walls and pooling in a two-meter wide puddle around the pile of shredded corpses. The boss flicked his cigarette onto the ringleader's now headless body, the cherry smouldering into exposed flesh. Fucker hadn't even flinched.

"Get this cleaned up. I'm going to the office. We clear out of here by seven sharp, not a second later." He growled, pacing away from the slaughter without a second glance.

Once he was out of sight, Silva took stock of the situation. Six men, all armed to the teeth and prepared to fire without hesitation. Six more, equally armed, just outside the building. To top it all off, a sociopathic Aura user with the single most excessive firearm Silva had ever laid eyes on.

His course of action was determined a moment later, after he spotted the building's primary fuse-box. Without making a sound, he moved via his Semblace to its location, slicing the wires with Regalis and plunging the entire factory into darkness. The windows had been boarded up, meaning that no sunlight would aid their eyesight.

_He_, on the other hand, couldn't even tell the difference. His lips split into an eager grin when the six of them began to fumble for flashlights. That meant their aim would be off, having to fire with their only source of light held in the off-hand.

_How does it feel to be hunted, you sick **fucks**__?_

With the slightest tug on his Semblance, he felt himself immerse into the blackness around him. Then, he _moved_. Rapid, silent strides surged towards his nearest target, Regalis ripping through the man's throat before anyone could stop him. Even as the rest began to exclaim in shock, he moved on the next. His blade buried itself into another's upper back, where he shoved the guy off with his free hand. Beams of light snapped over to their ally, but Silva had fallen into the shadows by then. All they'd likely seen was Regalis' blade sticking out of his chest before it faded into nothingness.

Shifting his focus, Silva erupted from the concrete between two of the men, his ivory blade impaling one's throat before knocking another unconscious with a savage hammer-kick to the temple. The remaining two had backed themselves up against a nearby wall, rifles leveled but slowing the speed at which they could bring their flashlights to bare. He slinked back into the dark.

_They're so... fragile._

It was a new thought, honestly. This was the first time he'd been in an actual combat situation with non-Aura users. Back in the Fang, he'd been sent out specifically to deal with high-caliber Grimm and Huntsmen who sided with the SDC.

_This isn't even a fight. Just a wolf picking off sheep._

He didn't have a say in that, though. These men knew the risks of their job.

Moving behind them, lurking in the darkness that covered the wall they'd posted up against, he gripped Regalis with both hands. And, just as the crime lord walked back out of the office, he swept the heads from their bodies.

Then things went wrong.

The main entrance of the building exploded inward, the outer patrol all filing in with rifle-mounted flashlights pointed directly at him. His Semblance was rendered useless, throwing him out onto the bloodstained floor before he could catch himself. He threw himself back to his feet, brain firing on all cylinders to figure out what to do.

_How!?_

He didn't have time to ponder it, however, right now it was just the cards he'd been dealt. Now he had to outplay the dealer.

"Make a single movement, and my men will fire until your Aura shatters." His mark warned, hand resting on his revolver's grip. "Now, care to explain why you've brutalised half of my personal escort?" He asked, scowl morphing into a venomous glare.

"I'm here to kill you." Silva answered. No point lying.

"On who's orders, then?"

"My own." Except for Torchwick. His name needed to be kept out of the situation. The boss's lips curled into a cunning smirk.

"Vigilante, then. Not the first, won't be the last either. Alright, then, that's about all I wanted to hear. You can die, now." He turned his back to him, hand raising to give the order to fire.

But before the command could be given, something strange happened. One after the other, each man's throat began to spew blood from a puncture wound that came from seemingly nowhere. Three bodies hit the concrete before anyone was able to react.

No one batted an eye, though. It was the most bizzare thing he'd ever witnessed. Within the next two seconds all six of the bodyguards were laying in pools of their own blood. The crime lord, still facing his men, followed through with his order as though nothing had changed.

And then, to Silva's utter confusion, a petite girl with ice-cream colored hair appeared in a flash of shattering reality and light. It seemed that the strange hypnosis over the crime lord vanished at that point.

"What the fu-!" Before he could voice his shock, the girl blurred towards him and drove her... umbrella-blade, into his stomach, his crimson Aura flaring as he was thrown back by the strike. As he recoil, the girl's heterchromatic eyes shot over to his own, eyebrows raising in a look that seemed to say 'The hell are you doing? Move!'.

Jerking himself back to the situation at hand, he focused back on the crime lord, who was almost on his feet with his absurd hand-cannon already drawn.

Silva dashed forward, crossing the distance in a flash and slamming a heavy kick into the man's side before he could line up a shot on the girl. Now out of the light, he used his Semblance to appear in the bastard's face, raking Regalis across his target's chest at a rising angle that threw the man's head back.

But, before he could use the opening, what felt like a an artillery shell exploded against his stomach. His Aura shattered like thin glass, the sheer force of the shot sent him flying back until he collided with a suppot beam. Pain blossomed like a raging wildfire throughout his stomach and lower back, and he barely heard another round chamber in time to throw himself aside. The beam he'd landed against was blown to pieces not an instant later.

His free hand shot down to where he'd been hit, thankful when he failed to find any open wounds. It'd been _just_ enough to break his Aura.

And probably give him a major concussion. Hitting that beam _hurt_.

He shoved himself back to his feet, legs wobbly and his grip on Regalis weak. If he'd just bounced across the floor, that wouldn't have put him out of comission. That sudden and forceful _stop_ had completely fucked up his head without Aura, though. He could barely even think, let alone fight.

_Need to... hel..p..._

He took a step forward...

And fell face-first onto the ground, unconscious.

* * *

_"What is it, Adam?" He prodded, his Brother's scowl deepening at the question._

"_Nothing, brat." The bull Faunus snapped. Silva wasn't so sure._

_"You realise I can see that look in your eyes, right? Something heavy's on your mind. I can tell."_

"_You see nothing but your own assumptions, Taro." He shot back. Silva just smiled._

_"That's always what you say when I notice you getting all broody. Come on, man, how is stewing on your problems going to make it any easier? Just tell me. It can't be **that** bad." Silva said, taking a seat beside Adam to make it clear he wasn't letting this go. The elder of the two let out a breathy groan._

_"You just don't know when to leave me the hell alone, do you kid?" He remarked, sinking deeper into his chair. "Do you ever wonder why we're here?"_

"_You mean on Remnant? Woah, I never took you for the religious type." Adam gave him a firm, playful shove at that._

_"That's not what I meant and you know it, prick!" His gaze softened a bit. "What's the point in all of this?" He gestured to a pile of protest signs that lay next to their tent._

_"We go out there, screaming in the face of the Humans to just let us be **free, **and all we've ever gotten in return are flashbangs or disinterest." His grip on Wilt tightened, knuckles white with exertion. "All we want is to be treated like more than **trash**. Is that such a foolish thing to ask of them?" His hands shook, but Silva's hand on his shoulder seemed to ease his tension at least a little._

_"Not at all. They're just stuck in the past, Adam, that's why we do this the way we do it. To show that we **don't care** about the War. To show that even when they pelt us with rocks, or blind us with grenades, we're still willing to put our hatred aside and do what's **right**. Even if we get hurt doing it." His words were gentle, but still they seemed to rile his Brother up._

_"But it just doesn't **fucking work**, Silva! They don't give a shit about doing the **right thing**, all they care about is maintaining the goddamned status quo!" Adam seethed, turning abruptly to face him. "We **tried** peace! We tried, and tried, but they spit it back in our fucking faces__!" He seemed to sober, for a moment, his body going still and his grip on Wilt falling slack. Silva didn't know what to say._

_"I'm done screaming at a wall, Silva. Now, I'm going to tear it down." Panic bubbled in his gut. What was he supposed to say?_

_"Adam, I-"_

_"Save it, kid. My mind is made up. I won't just stand by with a sign in my hand. I'm going to **do something**." Before he could say anything else, Adam rose to his feet and marched out of the tent._

**_'Adam...'_**

* * *

His eyes snapped open as he jerked awake, a cold sweat glistening against his forehead. He lay there a moment, clasping a hand over his eyes as he shivered.

_Why now?_

He didn't need this right now, there was too much shit on his plate as it was. Yet still he shook, breaths heavy and ragged.

_Damn it, Adam._

It was the first time he'd actually let himself think about him. First time he'd faced it. Anger, grief, nostalgia, it all blurred together in his head as he thought back on it all.

_Wait, where am I?_

The thought sent a pulse of panic through his chest. His eyes flicked around his surroundings, that fear beginning to settle once he realised he was still in the factory. Alone, but there was a bandage wrapped around his stomach and his face wasn't caked with blood anymore.

_Must've been the girl._

He wanted to know who that was. Badly. But, before he could think on it any longer, his scroll's alarm clock began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket, eye bulging when he read the time.

_7:30... Fuck my life!_

He didn't even have time to make sure his final mark was dead. Well, Roman would probably be letting him later in the day, regardless. That issue dealt with, he fell into his shadow, moving at speeds that drained his Aura reserves faster than he'd have liked. It was worth it, though, when he reformed aboard the Bullhead to Beacon just as the pilot engaged the engine.

When the ship docked at the Academy, he went straight to Team SCRL's dorm via his Semblance. To his relief, nobody was there at the moment. He changed into his uniform as quickly as he could, noticed something important as he slid off his jacket.

His entire left side was stained with blood.

"Fuck," He growled, throwing the reddened clothes into a basket in the bathroom. He picked it up and threw a towel over them to keep it from beeing as obvious.

He flickered over to the laundry room, hurriedly stuffing his clothes into a washer and turned it on. His frame relaxed into the wall beside, letting out a soothing breath.

"Silva?" He froze. He looked to the voice. Golden eyes met his own.

"What the hell's going on?" Blake asked, obviously still not sure what to think. For an instant his brain glitched out, remdering him unable to explain himself. He only managed to break the silence when Blake seemed to assume the worst, slowing inching away from him with wide eyes and a slightly parted mouth.

"I, uh... well... not what it look's like?" _I'm fucked._ He thought, _Utterly doomed._

Her instinctual paranoia seemed to fade a bit. She stopped moving back, her face taking on a look closer to wary confusion than anything. "Then what is it?"

"Um..." _God damn it social anxiety, not fucking now! _He fumbled to think of something. "I was on the outskirts of Vale and ran into a civilian getting mauled by an Ursa." He lied, "Had to keep pressure on his neck until help got there." It was a shitty lie. His clothes had been _half-__soaked_.

"You alright? That couldn't have been easy." And yet she took the bait. He had half a mind to say she'd done it intentionally.

"I'm... I'm fine. Just don't like blood much." Lie, again, but it was all he could think of to make sense of his behaviour. This was such a bad situation.

"Okay," She seemed to have something on her mind. That look. It was just like Adam. "My Team and I are getting ready to go eat some breakfast. You could join us if you want, your Team doesn't seem very..." She hesitated for a second, so he finished the thought for her.

"They're walking piles of Human garbage." He confirmed, the two sharing a short, awkward laugh.

"Yeah. That."

Silva couldn't help but feel relieved by the change of topic. "Sure, why not?"

* * *

**_Hello again! Back to average chapter size for this story, and boy was this one interesting to write. Now that you've read it, do you think it would be appropriate to up the rating to M, or should I leave it as is? I try to have Silva come across as hellbent on reaching his goals, but not so much so that he doesn't have mixed feelings about it. I still want him to be relatable, but I as the author and creator of his life am biased. That's where you reviewers come in._**

**_I know I said how he knew about Cinder would be explained this chapter, but that's been pushed back a bit. Don't worry, all will be revealed in time._**

**_Now before people ask, no, Silva isn't related to Adam by blood. More of an adopted little brother. As I've heard before, 'some relationships run deeper than blood'._**

**_From this point onward, things are going to calm down a bit. We have a while before any major plot points come up, so expect mostly character development for the next few chapters._**

**_That's all I've got, I guess. Buh-Bye!!!_**


	6. Misplaced Anger

**_-Semblance of Brotherhood-_**

_Chapter 6: Misplaced Anger_

If she were being completely honest with herself, Blake didn't know exactly _what_ to make of Silva Taro. He was… odd? No, that didn't quite fit.

On the outside, he seemed like a no-nonsense guy that didn't bother worrying about the consequences of doing what he saw as right. If he saw a problem, he just _fixed_ it. No petty dramatic bullshit, he cut right to the heart of the matter and ripped it out. Normally, that sort of mentality would be worrying. It meant that if he ever got it in his head to do something bad, he wouldn't be talked out of it. Yet, she still got the impression that he was someone who's moral compass, while skewed and unpredictable, generally stayed in the right place. He genuinely meant well.

Even if reaching 'well' meant getting his hands dirty.

Of course, she wasn't just going to ignore his word and assume the worst of him. That wouldn't have been fair. Instead, she decided to hold onto a grain of salt when he told her how his clothes had gotten soaked in Human blood. Granted, no man held enough blood in his body to soak Silva's clothes and not die from blood-loss, but he looked pretty damn shaken up, so she'd let it slide.

He had that air about him, a certain constant alertness that she knew all too well. You didn't get shaken up by seeing some blood with that kind of paranoia. If her intuition was to be trusted at all, he'd seen more than his fair share of blood long before he came to Beacon.

Yang may have shrugged off that instance with Ruby right before Initiation, but Blake knew better. That poor girl had been a single misjudgement away from dying right then and there. Silva wasn't just a fighter, he was a _killer_. No average Huntsman in training was taught how to use sudden respiratory-deprivation to short out a person's Aura. That was something you would only ever learn and internalize if you were expecting to murder someone. They taught it to White Fang members as soon as they started training, so that they at least had _some_ chance when a Huntsman entered the fray.

And that had been Silva's first instinct. Even being a Huntsmen himself, he'd had every intention of killing Ruby until he realised who she was.

_Ah, and here I am assuming the worst again._

It was this train of thought that had led to her offering him a spot at her Team's table. Him being a Faunus had just as much to do with it, but he didn't need to know that. Was it so wrong to want someone around her who actually understood what being Faunus was like? She didn't hold it against her sibling Teammates, but as much as the two seemed to feel bad for their kind, they just didn't _get it_.

Weiss? Pff. She barely even understood who the White Fang were.

Silva, on the other hand, had no delusions of idealism. He'd beaten his entire Team yesterday, and within the same day did so again the _instant_ they tried to pick on another Faunus.

_He could have been a bit less of a dick to that girl, but at least he did something._ It was more than she'd expected anyone to do.

He reminded her of Adam, before he changed.

"Why do you hide?" The abrupt question completely shattered her train of thought. She glanced over to Silva with wide eyes, before she noticed something about the way he'd said it. It had been less than a whisper, something very specifically meant for advanced Faunus hearing to pick up on. He was asking while also ensuring that no one would notice but her. _Well, I guess someone was bound to call it out eventually._ At least he had the respect to not blurt it out. She couldn't exactly blame him for wanting to ask, she'd be confused by it too. Already she'd seen a couple other Faunus giving her sideways glances, but none dared to call her out on it.

"I…" At the same time, she didn't know how to answer. Or rather, she didn't want to admit the real answer out loud. At first it had just been the desire to escape prejudice. Literally all it was. It wasn't until she'd ended up on a team with Weiss Schnee of all people that her bow became _extremely_ important to their Team's integrity. If her heritage was exposed, it would lead to way more problems than Blake wanted to heap onto Ruby's shoulders. Poor kid already had her work cut out for her. "Well, I'm sort of on the same Team as Weiss Schnee. It would just make things complicated." She whispered in reply after a moment.

"Ah. That's… interesting. You realise that it won't last forever, right? Something will force it into the open eventually." She winced at the statement. He wasn't wrong. Life had a funny way of forcing you to eat your own shit.

"I know. I just…" She began to drift off, but Silva seemed to almost read her mind.

"Need time to sort yourself out?" She nodded, "I get that. Better to face things on your own terms if you can help it. I won't go and try to tell you how to handle your own business, it's not my place, but don't drag it on for too long. It'll only make things worse if they feel like you were lying to them." Again, she nodded. _He has a point. Maybe I should just rip the bandaid off? _Then again, this was coming from someone she'd just met not a couple of days ago, and only spoken to twice. It was so strange, he barely knew her and yet she got the feeling he was learning more about her by the second. His gaze was always so analytical, like he was constantly making a heavy effort to take in as much information as he possibly could. At times it almost felt like he was looking straight through people.

* * *

**_With Silva…_**

He hadn't expected Belladonna to be very willing to talk about her masked heritage, and it showed with how little she actually talked. A couple of nods, and the subject was dropped. Now he just felt like an asshole, digging his nose into other's issues.

_This is why we don't talk to people, Taro. The fuck were you thinking?_ Despite the self-scolding, he reminded himself that even if she was a fucking _Belladonna_, he'd still made a promise to himself. _I won't just sit in the background and leave her to sulk in her burdens. That inherently requires a bit of nosiness._ Though even as he reassured himself, the image of Adam in the back of his mind pressed like an expanding balloon. He hated that. All he wanted was to be rid of him right now, this was supposed to be his time to unwind and go through the motions. Now everything he saw served to remind him of how he'd come to be here.

Though he didn't notice it in the moment, his left hand drifted up to the long, vicious scar that ran across his throat and the left of his jaw. Blake noticed, but didn't speak on it.

"Silva!" His attention was dragged back to reality as a familiar, high-pitched voice called his name. Ruby seemed extremely excited to see him, nearly tripping over her own feet as she shot up from their Team's table and rushed over him and Blake. "Where'd you go yesterday!? You were supposed to tell me how Regalis' blade is so white!" She demanded, bumping a light, angry fist against his chest. He couldn't help but crack a grin.

"Is that right? I don't remember these terms." He deadpanned, causing Ruby's eyes to bulge before a hint of a blush dusted her cheeks in embarrassment.

"I-I mean, yeah, I guess…" Her lively mood seemed to wilt, her shoulder visibly sagging.

"It's okay, Ruby, I was just messing with you. No need to get all bummed out." He quickly reassured her, before Ruby snapped a frustrated kick into his shin. "Ahg!" He grunted, a sharp, small pain stinging the place she'd hit.

"The hell was that for?"

"You're being mean!" She shot back.

"I told you already, I was joking!"

"Hmph!" She didn't buy it, turning away from him with crossed arms. It wasn't until Blake walked up to her, tapped her shoulder and whispered something into her ear that Ruby seemed blanch, turning back to face him with a mix of remorse and understanding on her face.

"Sorry! Blake told me what happened, I didn't reali-" He cut her off before she could start rambling in apology.

"I told you, it's okay. Sure, a little warning would've been nice, but it's not like I'm mad at you for being curious." How could he blame someone for being so enthralled by his most prized possession? His sword was a work of art, damn it!

"So… we're cool?" Ruby asked, still seeming a little uneasy. He just laughed a bit.

"Yeah, we're cool. As for my sword, well, I'm not too sure what kind of metal my dad used to make it. Apparently he was really hush-hush about the whole process." The explanation seemed to dull her enthusiasm a little, before her eyes lit up with a realization.

"Oh! Do you wanna find out!? The weapons workshop here has a guy who can test the material composition of different metals, we could run there during our free period after Lunch if that's okay?" The prospect was something he'd never really thought about. People made weird colored weapons all the time, even if it almost looked like Regalis' blade wasn't just _painted_ that way. In fact, now that he thought about it, that sounded like a cool thing to figure out. Sure, it wasn't deciphering the message scrawled on the sheathe, but he definitely wanted to find out _something_ about his sword if he had the chance.

"Sure. Sounds like it'd be interesting to look into." She pumped a fist in the air at his agreement.

"Awesome!" Blake tapped her shoulder again, subtly nodding to their table with a meaningful look. Ruby seemed to pick up on it, "Oh, right! Come on, let's go eat." Her mood seemed to level out at that, and she paced back over to the table with a satisfied smile.

He looked over to Blake, "I'm going to get my food, be back in a second." She nodded. Turning away, he fell into the line that had formed alongside the nearby wall.

He hadn't been in line for thirty seconds before he noticed Cardin making his way over.

_Great. Now I get to deal with **this** shit._ Letting out a huff, he turned to look up the boy.

"What, Winchester?" He asked, not quite snapping but holding a firm edge in his voice. He was not in the mood for their stupidity right now. Cardin glared down at him for a moment before he spoke.

"Nice to see you too, mutt." He shot back, Silva's eyes narrowing in a dangerous scowl. But, for some reason there wasn't the same _bite_ to it. Like he didn't mean it as an insult, but more of an annoyed response to Silva's combative greeting. He let it slide, for now.

"Again, what do you want, Cardin?" He asked once more, his voice hardening as he gritted through his teeth.

"Russel and I want a rematch. No Semblances, just pure skill." Ah. Perhaps he should've expected that.

"And what of Lark?" He asked, causing Cardin to sneer.

"No idea. He fucked off and did his own thing after you left. Now are we doing this, or are you too much of bitch to fight without that fancy shadow-trick of yours?" Silva frowned.

"Not unless it's all three of you. You two by yourselves wouldn't be productive for the Team. No point in fighting unless you learn to do it as a unit, you _are_ going to be working with each other for the next four years, at least." He was fine with just beating the three of them until they learned to work well together, though that likely wasn't what Cardin meant. But, it didn't change the end result. They would still become a better Team at the end of the day, and he'd be able to learn their styles so that he could quickly complement them during live combat.

_They don't need to like me. As long as they maintain the drive to get stronger, no matter where it comes from, I'll give them something to beat themselves against to do it._ The simple fact of the matter was that they were his Teammates. And he did not accept anything less than every ounce of effort from his subordinates.

Cardin just scowled at him. "Tch, fine. Be on the roof by dark." With that, he walked back over to Russel, who was sitting across the cafeteria glaring daggers at Silva.

_So, they want to do this off the books? I guess that works. Means I can really let loose on them._ A crowd had made it hard to point out their flaws the last time they fought, and doing so after that fact only served to sour their mood further. No, criticism was something best given in the moment, before they could form some sort of excuse for the mistake.

_At least I'll have some to do after I have Regalis looked at._

Nothing else came up while he waited to get his breakfast. He nodded his thanks to the woman who handed it to him, and made his way back over to Team RWBY's table. When he sat down, Ruby seemed to be in the midst of telling some sort of story.

"And then Mrs. Goodwitch saved me! She made this weird shield thing around us, it was so cool! Then this lady started shooting fire at us from the Bullhead, but Mrs. Goodwitch did this crazy Semblance thing and turned it all into glass! They went back and forth for a while, but they got away before we could bring the Bullhead down!" She regaled, and he couldn't help but find himself both amused and curious.

"Sorry, I just got back. What were you talking about?" He asked, Ruby looking back at him with a wide smile.

"Oh, hey Silva! Weiss asked me how I got into Beacon early, so I was just telling her." She explained, but before he could ask for details the **_Schnee_** seemed to have something to say.

"As if any of that really happened, she must have gotten in on recommendation. There is no way a _dunce_ like you nearly caught Roman Torchwick of all people! That man is as much of a menace to society as the entire White Fang put together!" Her voice grated on his ears like nothing he'd ever heard. Every minute nuance in her voice, each tiny little Atlesian elitist accent dredged up a toxic rage that he wanted so badly to embrace. Yang leveled a venomous glare at her, but Silva spoke before she could say anything.

"I don't think Ruby asked what you thought of the story, _Schnee_." He growled. He noticed Blake giving him a very cautious look from beside Yang. He'd very purposely positioned himself with Ruby separating he and the Schnee, but it seemed that he just couldn't help himself.

The bitch leaned forward to look down the table at him. He met her scowl with one of his own.

"What did you just say to me?" She snapped, and Silva felt the growing urge to grab hold of her neck and just _squeeze_ when he heard the privileged whininess in her voice. He squashed it, though. _I've done enough killing for one week._

"You asked her how she got into Beacon early, did you not?"

"Yes. And?" Oh gods, he was going to murder her. Why did he decide to sit here? He could have been sitting somewhere quiet and peaceful, enjoying his breakfast, but no. Instead he was here, talking to a member of the most evil family on Remnant.

"She told you what happened, and her sister hasn't corrected her in any way. Yang, is the story Ruby told the truth as you know it?" He looked over to her.

"Yeah." She spat, looking directly at the Schnee, instead of him. He turned back to the little she-devil.

"So seeing as Ruby doesn't have any benefit from _lying_, what do you get out of trying to make her feel worse while simultaneously undermining her efforts by suggesting that she didn't work to get where she is? Oh wait, _forgive me_, you _Schnees_ must be _very_ familiar with things being handed to you on a silver platter, _right?_" The look of hate and shock on her face was absolutely priceless. "Or are you just jealous because _she's_ a natural Huntress, while _you're_ merely a product of expensive tutors?" He honestly had no idea if Ruby was an effective fighter or not, but if she'd fought Roman and nearly caught him that had to mean something. That, and it gave him more ammo to use.

Ruby put her hand between them, clearly trying to stop them from fighting. As if he needed to see that bitch to tear her down. Before he could say any more, though, Ruby shot him a surprisingly authoritative scowl.

"Stop it! I don't want you two fighting because of me!" She demanded, but letting up was the last thing he had in mind. _She deserves every word, and more_.

"You don't even _know me!_ You don't know what I had to go through to get here!" The Schnee _whined_.

_Ugh, just shut the fuck up!_

"What, did _dear_ Daddy Schnee not want his little _puppet_ to leave Atlas?" The way she flinched told him he hit a sweet spot there. Good.

"What is your _problem_ with me!?" Again with that whiney, god, _damned_, **_voice_**.

"Oh, I don't know, how about _everything your family stands for_." He shot back, making very sure not to raise his voice. One shout and suddenly she'd go scurrying off to find a staff member to report him.

"My family has done _nothing_ wrong!" Until she said that. He stared at her for a momemt, before his head tipped back, a thick cackle escaping his throat for several seconds. He leaned back into the table, staring her down with an aloof, sarcastic grin.

**_How fucking dare you!?_**

"So _that's_ how we're playing the narrative, huh?" Again, a small snicker slipped from his chest. "Okay then, how about this? How many Faunus _die_ working in SDC Dust Mines every single year?" He waited, but the girl only seemed to stammer, so he answered for her. His face twisted into a look that could only be described as pained fury. "_Two fucking thousand! _And that's just the god damned _estimate! _Your family has never done _anything_ wrong? Tell that to my _Mother_, **_BITCH!"_** He shoved himself up to stand with his hand popped on the table, but before he could walk away himself a firm, thin hand took hold of his shoulder and jerked him back with enough force to override his balance.

The hand literally dragged him, shoes squeaking against the tile floor, all the way out of the cafeteria. He didn't look back at them, his eyes were fixated on the **_Schnee_** with so much rage boiling in his chest that it physically _hurt_. Once they had gone out of sight, the hand spun him around to an open palm that collided with his cheek in a _slap_ that echoed through the empty hallway. His head snapped to the side as his Aura flashed with sheer force of it.

"What the _fuck_, SIlva!?" Blake half-shouted, arms wide in gesture and a look of concerned disbelief in her eyes. "I asked if you wanted to sit with us so you could _relax_, not treat Weiss like everything Jacques Schnee has ever done was her fault!"

For a moment he wanted to turn his ire on her. How dare she make out like… But that wasjust it, wasn't it? He'd acted, and talked, like he was in front of the Owner of the SDC. When, in reality, that girl probably didn't have a clue what her father had done to his kind. To his family. He forced himself to swallow the blind hatred that had taken root in his head, a long, shallow breath sliding past his lips as he quelled his own shaking.

"Look, I get that you're mad, I do, but Weiss doesn't have anything to do with that. She's just our age, Silva. She's probably never even _been_ to a Dust Mine before." She spoke slowly, her voice gentle in hopes to help calm him down. He couldn't tell if that helped, or just made him feel more like shit. Or were those two things one in the same, right now?

"I…" He didn't know what to say. It wasn't like he had any sort of reasonable excuse, he'd just snapped over practically nothing. Just some kid saying their father was infallible, and sweet Oum did that sound pitiful when he thought about it objectively.

"You don't have to say anything, I just don't want you trying to tear someone apart that honestly doesn't deserve it. I get it, Silva, I still have a hard time talking to her sometimes, too. It's kind of hard when all you can see is that white hair." She stepped a little closer, "But I can say from how much I've been around her the last couple of days that she really does have good intentions. Even if her political views are a bit infuriating, she at least _tries_ to be a decent person most of the time." She explained, careful with how she said her piece.

_Gods, I've fucked up, haven't I?_ He'd acted like _Adam_ would, in this situation. _No. I can be better than that. I **have** to be better than that._ His features sobered, eyes setting in determination.

"It won't happen again." He didn't need to ask for forgiveness from Blake, he'd done nothing wrong to her, but he owed her that promise, at the very least. He'd made a fool of himself, and of her.

"I'm glad to hear it. Just… um, maybe stay away from Weiss for today? I think you gave her a lot to process. I doubt anyone's ever shoved the truth in her face like that." She said, Silva nodding in agreement. "I won't ask you to apologize to her, but at least try to _tolerate_ her in the future?"

"I can do that." He meant it both ways. Even if it felt like pulling teeth, he was _going_ to let Weiss know how much he regretted his words. She had done _nothing_ to deserve his anger, yet he'd treated her like garbage just because of his own problems.

"Thanks. I, uh… I'm sorry for dragging you into that. It was kind of stupid, now that I think about it. It's not like I didn't know how strongly you felt about racists. Pretty sure everyone saw you defending that girl yesterday." Her arms folded in on themselves, her head turning slightly off to the side as she spoke.

"Don't even _think_ about blaming yourself for that, Blake. It was my inability to think maturely that led to this and nothing else, so don't let me hear you apologizing for literally doing nothing." Her eyes flicked back over to him, opening slightly.

"Oh. Okay, then. I guess everything's alright now?" She asked, and he laughed slightly out of sheer self-deprecation.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm going to take a walk before class starts, try and get my head on straight. Thanks for slapping some sense into me, I think I needed it." He really had. If she hadn't done that he might have just gotten more angry. His temper tended to lose itself once he went over the edge. She seemed to stiffen slightly at his words, a nearly unnoticeable red tint forming in her face. Looked like she didn't get thank-yous very often.

"Oh! Uh, i-it was nothing, don't worry about it." She managed to stop herself from stuttering, "And okay, I'll let Ruby and Yang know you're alright." He gave her a grateful nod before stepping past her, turning his head back as he walked away. He held up a hand in a lazy wave goodbye.

"I'll see you later, Blake." She returned the wave, even if her hand barely moved up at all.

"Yeah. See you later." Came her reply, Silva looking away from her and rounding a corner in the hallway that led to the school's courtyard.

_Why can't I just have a normal day for once?_

Somehow, he felt like that wouldn't happen anytime soon.

* * *

**_Hello again! God, I just can't stoo writing this story. I'm so eager to get to the really juicy parts, it's hard to take the time and fill in as mucn detail as I can while making the characters as real as I can._**

**_So, for those who are confused, when I say the next few chapter are going to calm down a bit, I mean in terms of life-or-death stakes. There will still be plenty of stuff going on, just not quite as heavy as last chapter. I want a break from putting Silva through that kind of hell._**

**_I'll see you guys next chapter, don't forget to RR if you find the care to. Every review helps._**

**_Buh-Bye!!!_**


	7. Dusteel

**_-Semblance of Brotherhood-_**

_Chapter 7: __Dusteel_

"I've been waiting for you to call all morning, Rome, is the last one dealt with or not?" He asked the moment his black Scroll started to ring. There was silence on the other end of the call for several seconds.

_Something's up. Roman doesn't do shit like this._

"Rome, are you there?" He pressed, his voice growing rigid. Finally, he heard the bastard shout from the background of the call.

_"Just a second, kid!" _The shift in tone after that told Silva that he was talking to someone on his end of the call. _"I know, I know, but this Taro kid's way more dangerous than you seem give him credit for." _There was a pause. _Who the fuck are you talking to, Roman?_ Silva raised the phone to his upper ears, leaning into it in an effort hear the other. He couldn't make out anything specific, just that it was vaguely feminine.

After another few moments, Roman seemed to actually pick up the phone, muttering a grateful, _"Thanks, Neo." _before he turned his attention back to Silva.

_"Sorry for the hold up, buddy, got someone here who's wanting to speak to you. I think you're gonna want to hear what she has to say, we can talk about business after that." _He explained.

"That's fine. Who is it?" Before Roman could answer, however, there was a short rustle as though someone had slipped the phone from the thief's hands.

_"That, would be me." _A rich, almost seductive female voice answered, _"My name is Cinder Fall. I've heard a bit about you, Taro, just as it seems you've heard a bit about me." _Her tone lowered slightly, the barest hint of displeasure in her voice.

That had probably been that last thing Silva had expected out of this call. His lips curled up just a little.

"I've _heard_ that you roped the White Fang into petty robbery." All the information he'd had coming to Vale had come from a conversation he'd overheard in his camp's infirmary. The two guards watching him had spoken of a _Human_ woman making deals with Sienna Khan directly, one who went by the name Cinder Fall. Seems she didn't bother with aliases.

The woman let out an amused hum, _"Well, well, I suppose you've already formed quite the strong opinion of me. Allow me to quash those thoughts, if I may?" _Felt more like a statement than a question, but he didn't stop her from continuing.

_"Ah, it's refreshing to speak with someone who understands basic respect." _She remarked, _"You see, Taro, my partnership with your little band of terrorists is something that serves to mutually further our goals. They give me pawns to use as I deem necessary, and I supply them with the Dust they need to remain a relevant threat. It's not all that complicated, really._"

"So you're telling me _Sienna Khan_ agreed to work with a Human? Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe." She'd sooner have Cinder executed than humor any sort of fair business.

_"I can agree with that sentiment." _Her voice took on a bit of an edge, then, _"No, the person I've made an arrangement with is the new Head of Operations for the White Fang in Vale. Goes by the name Taurus, if I'm not mistaken." _A pit formed in his gut. Had they really pushed that project so quickly? He'd heard talk of a branch of the Fang being set up here in the Kingdom, but never expected it to be realised so soon.

"Adam."

_"Hm? You know each other? How quaint._

_Regardless, I_ _wanted to let you know that I wish to meet in person. There are things I'd like to discuss with you, all of which are too sensitive to speak of over Scroll." _Before he could reply, there was another rush of air past the mircophone as the phone likely was given back to Roman.

_"Do fill the boy in on the details of our meeting, dear Roman, I have more urgent matters to attend __to." _She said, the audible click of heels fading away before a door shut.

_"__Silva." _His voice was gritty, like he was talking through his teeth.

"Care to explain what the _fuck_ that was? I asked for information, not to talk to the bitch!" Silva barked.

_"Do you have **any fucking idea** what I had to go through to make sure that was all she did? A **rat** caught wind of you digging for info on her, she wanted to fucking **kill** you, dumbass! And before you give me that stupid 'I can handle myself' bullshit, her Semblance is literally **fire**!" _He rattled off in return, causing a small cavern to open up in his gut. A fire-based Semblance? That would make his own so difficult to use that he might as well not have one in the first place. He silence seemed to tell Roman he'd made his point.

_"You get it now, hotshot? We fucked around and got involved in some **heavy** shit, Silva, I'm talking the **end of Vale** here! She's got enough ordinance to turn half of the city into fucking **ash**, and she **wants more**!" _Oh.

_Oh, **fuck.**_

Pure shock left him completely slack-jawed for nearly ten full seconds. Roman seemed to understand he needed a moment to digest it.

"That's..."

_"Insane? Absurd? Absolutely fucking terrifying!? Take your pick!" _All of that and more. It was so overboard that it didn't even make sense as some declaration of war. Then again, why bother letting anyone know when you already have enough supplies to torch _half the city?_

"Why?" It just didn't make any sense logically.

_"That's the worst part, man, her actual goal is completely classified. She won't even tell me why we're stealing Dust." _But there weren't a lot of things that much Dust could be used for.

Roman let out a heavy breath, _"Yes, I'm fine, Neo. Sounds like the kid's fine, too." _He half-muttered. His attention seemed to turn back to the phone. _"Just do what she says and we'll be fine. If you decide to... **improvise**, leave me out of it. You know me," _Silva cut him off.

"Lie. Cheat. Steal. Survive. I didn't forget who I'm talking to, Roman, and don't worry. You won't have anything to do with what comes next, if things go smoothly." Silva assured, before his tone thickened with aggravation again. "My last mark. Is it done."

_"Ah, right, nearly slipped my mind. You're good, kid, little Neo here was touched by your effeciency, so she took the liberty of killing Mr. Overcompensation for you." _Relief managed to help dampen his paniced mood, the satisfaction of a completed mission was oh so welcome.

"Good. Tell ice-cream-head I appreciate the save." Before he went and wasted any more time, Silva hung up and stuffed the Scroll into his uniform's inside pocket.

_I need to remember this spot. It's... peaceful. _In a way he couldn't really specify. He just wanted an out of the way place to use his black-market Scroll without drawing attention, but this outcropping on Beacon's central tower, about midway up, was more than he could have asled for. It was a small, stable outcropping of brick that overlooked the Emerald Forest, made even more serene by the fact that it's position rendered it eternally shaded. He could come here whenever he liked, and never had to worry about being found.

_Too bad I can't stay and enjoy it._ Huffing, he fell back into the wall behind him.

* * *

**_With Pyrrha..._**

Before she came to Beacon, Pyrrha Nikos had _despised_ her name. In fact, she'd hated pretty much her entire lot in life until she came to the Academy.

Now? She still hated being an icon, but she wouldn't trade what she had now for the whole world.

"Jaune, could you hand me Milo?" She asked as she strapped her left shinguard to her leg, the _adorable_ blonde giving her an easy smile before passing it to her from her locker. Her own smile warmed just a little bit at how casual the exchange was.

_It's like I'm just **Pyrrha** to him._ Which she knew to be true, but the shock still caught her off-guard whenever they talked.

More, whenever she found any possible excuse to talk to him. Still, he didn't even seem to mind her being around him so much. Never gave her that sideways glance of admiration she hated, never asked her how she'd beaten Marshton Mallow in the Mistralian Junior Finals. He just smiled, laughed, and _treated her like anyone else_.

"Thank you, Jaune." The appreciation was met with a shy, goofy grin that made her heart backflip.

"No problem! I hope you get to fight today, it should be H through N this time." She was impressed that he managed to remember, with how stressed he'd been after their first day.

"Yes, I should be among the last few to battle." Not that she was particularly eager. Her smile died a bit at the mention. The only person she had interest in fighting wouldn't be available, seeing as he'd already fought his Team yesterday.

"Do you know who you wanna call out?" She had a decent idea, but there just weren't many in her year that seemed like genuinely skilled opponents. There was Team RWBY, all of whom seemed exceptionally capable, but Pyrrha liked to think she had a talent for sizing up a potential opponent. They didn't quite match up.

"I think I'm just going to let Mrs. Goodwitch decide, actually." When she'd come to Beacon, the whole point had been to find people on her level, people she could just _fight_ without worrying about going overboard. She adored combat, the rush of adrenaline that came from facing uncertain odds, she truly did. It was why she'd gotten into the tournament scene in the first place, but after a while it became stale. Once her Semblance came into the picture there just wasn't any thrill to it anymore, it felt like she was constantly holding back and even the _slightest_ use of her ability usually ended the match.

_And the second I find someone who's completely immune to it, I can't fight them for another two days. _It left a mildly bitter taste in her mouth. Ever since she'd watched him hold off that Death Stalker, Silva Taro had been on her mind. The economy of motion in his swordplay, his ruthless utilitarianism even in practice with his own Teammates, and dear Gods, that _Semblance!_ It was like he couldn't even be _touched_ until it was disabled, and even then he was easily the most brutally effecient fighter in their year.

And then there was his sword. It had been the first thing that caught her attention, even before Initiation. When they'd all been about to go to sleep that night, Pyrrha had done a bit of practice using her Semblance. By chance, after a while, her eyes glanced at the only weapon in the entire cafeteria, Silva's sword, and she'd very nearly nearly had to wake him up to ask _why she couldn't feel it with her Semblance_.

In using her Polarity, Pyrrha had always been able to tell what was metal and what wasn't. She wasn't sure how, but she just _knew_ at first glance if something was made from metal.

That sword was not metal. At least, not enough for her to influence. Which meant that he could completely ignore her Semblance if she tried to make him miss. The possibilities in a battle like that... it sent a rush of enthusiasm through her. It would be a bout determined sheerly by personal skill.

And that was how she liked it.

**_Towards the end of Combat Class..._**

When Mrs. Goodwitch finally called her name, Pyrrha came to a decision.

_It's okay if he says no, or if she doesn't let me, I need to ask. It's not like we couldn't use the public sparring arenas after school, even if they are a bit cramped... _

Regardless, she made her way down to the arena with a mildly eager smile on her face. The Professor seemed to notice her higher than average morale, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Do you have anyone in particular that you'd like to spar with?" She asked.

It took Pyrrha a moment to articulate her thoughts, "Um, yes, actually. But he already fought his Team yesterday, so if he isn't feeling up to it that's okay." Ugh, she was terrible at talking.

"You mean Mr. Taro?" She nodded.

"Well, I suppose that's his choice. If not then you'll fight Miss Xiao Long, is that alright with you?" Again, she nodded. Mrs. Goodwitch then looked down at her large Scroll tablet, and tapped a few buttons.

"Silva Taro, Miss Nikos has expressed the desire to challenge you to a sparring match." The boy in question locked eyes with her in that moment as the class all stared at him, his eyes baggy and his hair unkempt. Yet he still seemed tense, alert.

"Given that you've already had another match this week, it is understandable if you aren-" Before Mrs. Goodwitch could finish, Silva had vanished from his desk and stepped out from behind one of the arena's pillars.

"I accept." He announced, and for a moment Pyrrha grinned with glee. The Professor seemed hesitant after getting a look at him, but he'd confirmed the match before she had any chance to caution against it.

"Very well, then. The countdown commences in ten seconds, and I assume both of you remember the rules of engagement?" Both of them nodded, eyes still locked. Pyrrha was the first to assume a stance, Milo and Akuo sliding into her grip with practiced ease.

"Good luck, Silva. I hope this will be as much of a joy for you as it is for me." She offered, the anticipation in her gut building with each passing second.

"Joy?" His tone was laced with cynicism. "If you knew the night I just had..." He seemed to half-mutter, "Anyway, let's save the pleasantries for _after _we beat each other into the floor, that sound good?" He deadpanned, and Pyrrha couldn't help but giggle a tiny bit.

"That sounds _grand."_ With that, Silva finally eased into a defensive stance, his sleek, white blade held loosely out in front of him. Just then the intercom began the final bit of the countdown.

_"Match begins in three..."_

_"Two..." _Pyrrha dug her heels in, knees bending as she shifted her focus solely onto the battle at hand.

_"One..." _

_"Begin!"_

She burst into a sprint, Aura bolstering her speed and within a second she was on him, Milo shifting to spear-form for an opening thrust that Silva slung out of the way with a precise flourish of his own weapon. She halted her momentum, cutting a tight rotation before lashing out with Akuo. The strike met air, and Pyrrha barely slipped Milo behind her in time to catch Silva's counter slash.

They were both just testing the water, prodding at supposed openings to see what the othet was capable of.

Turning out of that block, she maintained the connection between Milo and her foe's blade, the scrape of the two materials sliding against one another grating on her ears as she attempted to suddenly disengage and thrust at his chest. He read her pressure so quickly that their blades never separated, instead just moving in unison to her left side, crossing her arms so that Akuo was unable to stop a kick to her tangled elbows. The blow knocked her back a bit, her eyes snapping up just quickly enough to notice a white flash tear into her Aura before he backstepped to give himself room.

_Focus, Pyrrha! _Even as she berated herself, Silva had closed the distance and stabbed underneath her guard, causing her to jut Akuo down to knock the strike aside. Then he went for another thrust, this time aimed _directly_ at her face. She jerked her shield up to bash it away, but by then he'd already turned that stab into a slash, wrist flicking in a tight circle to make up for his fully extended arm's lack of momentum. She was only just able to catch the blow with Milo's spear form, before she gave a mighty leap back.

_Breathe, he's trying to overwhelm you._

And then, as though he'd fully expected her to try and gain distance, Silva stopped his advance. She knew what that signified_. _He was ready to start fighting seriously. This was just him giving her the courtesy of a breath before he amped this entire fight up to eleven.

Instead, she charged at him, Akuo raised, and threw herself into a high flip as Silva's blade ghosted by where her knees had been. Milo slipped out from behind her shield as she passed over him, driving down into his exposed shoulder.

He snapped a pivot, shoulders turning parallel with her blade as his own tore up from underneath and slammed into Akuo with a resounding screech. The force of it catapulted her back a couple of yards, but she was able to land gracefully back in a fighting position.

The grin on her face was ear to ear.

He wasn't just good. He was _better_ than her, at least as far as raw swordplay was concerned. He'd outread her at every clash, and didn't even look very affected so far. She felt much the same, but the rush of enthusiasm threatened to make her lose focus. She knew she could win this, she just _knew_. She'd spent her entire life fighting!

But then, why did she still feel like the amateur here?

_Just fight. You can be happy after._

Eyes narrowing dangerously, she stepped onto a sprint once more.

* * *

**_With Silva..._**

The fight had gone rather slowly until now, he'd wanted to get a guage of how Pyrrha operated and so far, he was impressed. She had a flawless grasp on her situational awareness, reacting perfectly and changing her approach the instant it became predictable. The only thing she seemed to be stuck in was that headlong charge, but that looked more due to the fact that she was a _very _aggressive combatant. In real life, it was a bad idea to start every exchange the same way. Would get you killed once the enemy caught on. She'd never fought a battle like that, though, so he couldn't really blame her.

This time she led with a few shots of her rifle, but he'd kept a close eye on her aim as she fired, and stepped aside as the rounds passed. As she came within range, her weapon shifted into its sword state, lashing out where she thought his guard to be weakest. Before it could land, he pulled on his Semblance and melted into his own shadow.

The sudden lack of a target didn't phase her much, and as he reformed mid-slash behind her, she spun around and blocked it with her shield. They deadlocked for a brief instant, sharing a look over the rim of her shield.

Then things started to get intense.

A black glow that he recognised encased the defensive implement, a force that he couldn't possibly stop ripping it outward, bashing Regalis aside and eating into his space before he could compensate. He didn't even _see_ her sword before he felt its blade carve across his chest.

Grimacing, he pulled his sword back into line with his center, parrying a follow-up slash before bringing it back close to stop her shield from crashing into his jaw. She capitalized on it, shifting her weapon into its rifle form and squeezing off three rounds before he could disengage. Instincts began to override logic, and with a growl his entire frame blinked out of existence before he briefly reappeared in her blind spot, lashed out, and rapidly repeating it when she turned to face him.

The first few were practically free hits, but after a short period of shock she began to notice his preference for the blind spots, correctly predicting him and meeting Regalis with her own blade. He ramped up the speed, at this point he was flickering in and out of reality so rapidly that he could _feel_ the drain of it on his Aura. In response, her own Semblance seemed to coat her armor, and her movements became so blindingly fast that he didn't dare let up.

He changed his approach the moment he got the chance, this time driving his sword out of her shadow mid-teleport and into the back of her knee. Crimson Aura flared, and with a stifled cry she fell to a knee. A very small chip to her Aura, but at least now he wasn't burning away his own so recklessly.

_Don't get eager. Just because you **can** blitz like that doesn't mean it's a good idea._

He rose from the shadow of a pillar, placing himself directly in the middle of the arena. Pyrrha's head snapped over to him, her armor radiating a black glow that made her seem like some vengeful demon.

_She's not going to use it on Regalis?_

He'd been waiting for her to do that the entire match so far, pressuring and probing at her defences in the hopes of getting her to fight for keeps.

But, if she wanted to make this about personal ability, and not 'who could decimate the other first with their insansely dangerous Semblance', that was fine by him. His eyes flicked to their Aura levels, impressed at the fact that she was only slightly below him. He was at about half, while she was just a few percent under that. They were practically even.

It was interesting, how different yet equal they were as fighters. Pyrrha, the acrobatic, hyper-aggressive jack of all trades, master as well. She seemed to be all about using every single muscle at her disposal to pick her foes apart at a methodical pace. She was literally the _perfect_ tournament fighter, and that simple truth made her just as effective here, as well as against the mindless, heartless Grimm.

He was almost the complete opposite. Everything he did, each tiny motion, mattered to him. Every time he used a muscle, it was burning his stamina a little bit, and in his environment there simply was no room to waste it. Tire yourself out but beat your opponent on a battlefield? The next man would take advantage and kill you. You needed to conserve yourself as much as possible, because in a skirmish there was always going to be another fighter trying to rip your throat out. Aura meant nothing if you let yourself think it was something to be used carelessly.

_Ah, and therein lies the real difference._

She wasn't like that. To her, Aura and stamina were something that could be used like pawns on a chessboard. Take a blow here, deal a stronger one in return, and so on until you put your enemy down. It wasn't life or death to her, only a fight.

He, on the other hand, had been forced to look at combat in a much more crucial light. If he took a single blow, it meant he only had that much left to work off of. Why be lazy, letting Aura smother your mistakes, when you could simply fight like you didn't have it in the first place? That way when you finally did make one, which was inevitable, the person trying to murder you had to work just as hard to do the same damage. And you could use that as a frame of reference for how to avoid taking a hit like that again. He applied the same mindset to his stamina, only exerting himself at the bare minimum level to preserve what he had. It was why he never gripped Regalis tightly if he could help it, why he focused more on using his wrists to generate cutting force than his arms as a whole.

Pyrrha, for all of her calculation and skill, still saw her Aura and stamina as expendable for the sake of winning a short battle. He had learned to treat them like gold.

His musings were cut short when she closed in again, slinging his blade where needed to deflect while maintaining a spacially aware backpedal. With that Semblance she was completely outlcassing him in terms of raw strength and speed, but he frankly preferred it that way. Kept his blood pumping.

Ducking a slash at his temple, he used the instant between her strikes to snap a kick at her side, causing her to buckle slightly. Pulling again on his Semblance, he appeared behind her and faked a high jab to get her back on the defensive. As she pulled her shield up to meet it, he flicked Regalis back low, the blade crashing against her shinguard. She backstepped, retaliating with a vicious swipe of her sword that threw sparks as it grinded against his own.

And just like that, she was back to pushing forward, using a mixture of both sword and shield to parry or outright bash his sword away, and to be truthful he was sure she'd overwhelm him if he didn't start being more liberal with his Semblance.

Gritting his teeth, Silva fell back into Pyrrha's shadow and was barely able to throw himself to the side as her rifle let out another shot, reading his shift in position far better than he'd expected. She was an amazingly fast learner, and he felt stupid for trying the same trick so many times. As effective as instantly moving to your opponent's blindside was, it was only _reliable_ if you went for a killing blow as soon as you did it. People, no matter how talented or intelligent, learned in battle. Even if it was something completely isolated to this arena, she was figuring out how he liked to use his Semblance, and she was looking to use that information to _win._

_Shame I'm not a one-trick pony_.

So, he adopted something else entirely. It was a function of his Semblance that he almost never really used outside of training, but one he knew would give him an edge. On a smaller scale, it was how he took Regalis or his clothing with him when he used his Semblance.

He didn't pull himself into the shadows as her follow-up spear thrust rushed towards him, however.

Instead, he pulled _her_ into them.

All at once, she melted into his shadow. Without letting her sit for any longer than a second, he overcame his own surprise and ejected her from it, driving his blade into her sternum, her wide eyes and goofy smile still present as she hit the tile in a roll. The intercom blared, _"Pyrrha Nikos has been_ _eliminated via Aura depletion__, the winner is Silva Taro."_

Even as she rose to her feet and rushed over to him, Pyrrha's smile threatened to split her face.

* * *

**_With Pyrrha..._**

I_ lost._

_Fair and square._

Somehow, even in the shock of having just been in _literal_ shadows, Pyrrha felt _fantastic_. It wasn't exactly that she'd lost the fight, such a thing still grated her nerves mildly, but compared to what she'd gained in turn? This was almost as amazing as meeting Jaune.

This was someone who could not only keep up with her while she used her Semblance on her armor to make her movements as fast as thought, something she'd literally _never done before_, but he'd _beaten_ her through sheer skill and creativity with his own Semblance.

Hopping to her feet, she hurriedly paced over to Silva, who was in the midst of sheathing his sword.

"That was a _wonderful_ battle, Silva. Would you be opposed to repeating it sometime?" That was what mattered. She didn't just want to fight him again, she wanted to _beat _him. He looked up at her, the near foot height difference only now catching her attention.

"I agree. I'm going to be occupied with my Team tonight, but I definitely would be happy to rematch tomorrow after class." The reply sent her mood into a soar, her grin nearly painful from just how intensely _happy_ she felt.

"That would be grand!"

* * *

**_That evening, with Silva..._**

The amount of wide-eyed looks he'd recieved after besting Pyrrha Nikos had been downright _annoying_, could people not just mind their own affairs? Surely they had better things to gawk at than him? Even his own Team, who until then had completely ignored his existence, had stared at him in genuine disbelief. Only for Thrush to mumble something about cheating, which Silva elected to ignore.

When lunchtime came, he'd nearly been _assaulted_ by fellow first-years, all either hounding him to explain how he beat her, or accusing him of having cheated. The same had followed after classes ended.

Now he was back on that small ledge he'd found, his mind scattered.

_If Fall wants to meet, I can't act against any Fang presence in Vale until I know what exactly she's planning. If Adam is complicit, I'll have to work out some way of avoiding contact. If he finds out I'm here, that's it. I'll be dead by dawn. _There was no purpose deluding himself. His Brother was well beyond the point of no return. Grief and rage had warped his sense of morality to the snapping point, their last arguement before he'd been kicked out of the Fang had just cut the cord.

His ears picked up a whispery quiet rustle, but he dismissed it as wind due to how utterly silent it had been. Until a familiar voice made his eyes flick open.

"Oh, I didn't realise you were up here." Blake remarked, pausing in the process of pulling herself up the wall, "I can go, if it's a problem? I understand if you wanted some sp-" As right as she was, he stopped her by holding up an open palm.

"You're fine, Blake. I'm only here because I wanted to get away from those other first years. They were..." He stopped himself from being overly contemptuous. "Annoying." Insufferable, petulant, infuriatingly nosy. He didn't voice those thoughts, though.

Blake cracked an amused smile at that, taking a seat on the ledge a bit closer to the wall than he was, crossing her legs and laying a book open in her lap. "I can imagine. And you're sure I'm not bothering you here? I'll just be reading. The library here is decent, but I'm not a big fan of reading indoors, you know?"

"Again, you're fine. And... no, to be honest, I've never really bothered with books all too much. Life keeps me too busy." He said easily, and it was the truth. He was always too focused on something, be it training or thinking. Blake tilted her head slightly, ears twitching underneath that _ribbon._

"Ah. I guess not everyone has time for literature. I'll let you get back to relaxing, then, you look exhausted."

"Hm." He nodded, and with that the two fell into a comfortable silence. Only to be occasionally interrupted by the almost cathartic sound of a turning page.

_I need to get to the weapons workshop soon. Ruby will be waiting for me by now._

He despised having to leave so soon, this spot was just too perfect. He almost wanted to just go to sleep...

_No!_

He slapped himself, the sudden sound causing Blake to flinch and give him a hard look.

"Sorry, just... _really_ fucking tired. I need to go." He pushed himself to his feet, throwing his head back and forth to get his blood pumping. She just cracked a small grin and giggled a bit.

"Alright, I'd _suggest_ getting some sleep tonight." She quipped.

"Hah. I'll try and remember." He shot back before falling back into his Semblance. That topic actually brought something interesting to his attention. What would happen if he fell asleep in a shadow?

_I don't think I want to know the answer to that._

It was still tempting.

Pacing himself, Silva formed just oustide of the workshop a few seconds later, quickly slipping inside before anyone noticed him. That last swarm of enamoured students had nearly given him a migraine.

"Silva! Where were you? I told you to be here after class, dum-dum!" Ruby's voice caught his attention, and he reply with a scoff.

"I'm pretty sure you meant it as a general statement, originally, but whatever. So, where's this guy you were talking about?" He asked, causing Ruby to drop the previous subject and suddenly blur into rose petals, racing over to a middle-aged man towards the far side of the room. She turned back a waved him over, and out of sheer habit he blinked over using his Semblance.

"Agh!" The man cried with wide eyes, obviously startled by Silva's sudden movement. "Dear Gods, kid, you're gonna give me a heartattack like that! Maybe walk over like a normal person!?" Silva gave him a blank look.

"I'm not exactly a _normal __person, _you know. Just force of habit, sorry if I spooked you." His reply came in the form of a 'Tch,' followed by a murmur about 'Crazy ass kids.'

"Little miss Rose here says you were lookin' to have your sword tested for material composition, that right?" That frontier accent was hard to miss, Silva hadn't heard it very often. He nodded, hesitating a moment before unfastening Regalis from his hip. His ears stung as the man whistled upon laying eyes on his blade.

"Ah, sorry bout that. Didn't realise you were Faunus. But Gods be _damned_, if that ain't the finest scabbard I ever laid eyes on! May I?" He reached out, and after eyeing Regalis for a moment, Silva handed it to him. It fostered a bit of pride in his chest to see someone so blatantly praise his father's masterwork.

"It's name?" The man asked.

"Regalis, my father forged it before I was born." He answered casually, the man humming in understanding as he studied the sealed blade.

"An heirloom, then. Your pops had an eye for forging, kid. Damn good one at that. Well first off, this gilding on the scabbard is all legitimate gold, it would have decayed by now otherwise. Primary material looks local, Forever Fall wood if I had to guess." He explained, running his fingers down the length of it as he spoke.

"Hilt looks odd, is that a grappling mechanism?" He asked, to which Silva nodded. "Interesting. Not many weapons do that, most go for some advanced Mechashift or really anything that would give them a greater variety. Does it function well?" Silva couldn't help but snort at the question.

"Regalis has absolutely _no_ functional issues. I see to it myself." The man nodded.

"That's good. You'd be surprised how many kids don't look after their weapons these days. Well, s'pose I'll have a look at the blade now." He made to unsheathe it, but stopped immediately when it remained sealed. "Some kinda lock on the scabbard?"

"Yeah. There's a small switch on the base of the crossguard." He pointed to it, and the man flicked it.

Gringerly, he slid the blade from its sheath. His eyes widened when they noticed the ivory color of it, and narrowed in scrutiny when he notice the small bit of inscription on the base of the sword.

"This is..." He trailed off, then looked up at him. "Amazing. I've never seen a blade like it. Give me just a second." He reached into his pocket, producing a small device with an antenna protruding from the top. There was a display, which starting flashing a strange light as the man passed it over Regalis.

"What's that mean?" Ruby piped up, her confused look matching the man's almost perfectly. "Normally it just says what it's made of!" He didn't respond, just staring at the display like he'd seen a ghost.

"Sir? What's wrong?" Silva asked, causing the man look up at him.

"This here ain't just steel, kid. It's a metal compound called Dusteel, nearly impossible to shape, even harder to make it stable." The man reached back into a case of Dust crystals behind him, retieving one of the Fire element. He offered it to Silva, who took it.

"Ya see that blue gem in the sheathe? That's actually a burnt out piece of Ice Dust." To prove his theory, the man pinched the stone with his fingers and twisted gingerly. With a light click, the small gem popped out of the socket easily. "Oh, my, I ain't seen a Dusteel weapon this streamlined since Miss Branwen enrolled. Totally different mechanics from her blades, though, yours seems like it's meant to be compact and easy to use. Her's was anything _but_ easy to use."

The revelation sent a storm of thoughts through his head. Why had he never been told when he was young? How did his father even make it in the first place? Was this guy talking about one of the fucking _Branwen Twins!?_

"So, I just insert a piece of Dust crystal in the socket, and suddenly Regalis gains elemental effects?" He had no idea what that might look like. Silva made it a priority in his head to figure out how to incorporate this newly discovered function into his fighting.

"Should be that simple, but we won't know if you don't show it off." The man pressured, the eager glint in his eyes causing Silva to look over at Ruby.

"Please!? That sounds so awesome, I've never actually seen Dusteel before!" And with that, any choice in the matter was stripped from him. Sighing, he took hold of his weapon, sheathing it before picking the Fire crystal back up. With minor effort, he snapped off a small chip of it and set it gently into the small space in the center of Regalis' scabbard.

To his relief, it accepted the tiny stone without any hiccups. Immediately he felt the warmth emanating from within his sheath. He flicked the locking mechanism, and slowly slid his normally ivory blade from its sheathe.

An ominous, red glow enveloped the entire room, the shining vermillion blade of Regalis now so hot that he didn't dare touch its edge. The first thing that struck him was complete awe at how beautiful his sword looked like this. Then he noticed how much it resembled another sword he'd once adored. Wilt had truly been a magnificent blade.

Abruptly, he slammed Regalis back into her sheath. The sudden shift in mood seemed jar the two others, who'd been too transfixed to actually say anything.

"Do you have any spare Ice Dust?" He asked sharply, to which the man nodded.

"Gotcha, consider it my gratitude for getting to see something this unique." He replied easily, taking the Fire crystal from Silva's hand and turning back to face him a moment later with an icy blue chunk of the stuff.

"Thanks. I never got your name..?"

"Ah, sorry bout that. Got so caught up in my work that I didn't even bother telling you. Name's Alexander, kid. I don't much care for silly honorifics like 'Professor' or 'sir.'" He explained, Silva nodding in understanding as he began to make his way out.

"I appreciate the help, Alexander, but I need to get moving. Got my Team waiting on me." Alexander nodded with a wry smile, and with that Silva left. Ruby chased after him, rose petals trailing behind her.

"Oh my Gods! I can't believe Regalis is so cool!" She gushed, Silva indulging her excitement as they walked.

"I can't imagine it being any less impressive than yours." Ruby seemed to almost short-circuit at that, eyes bulging as though he'd just grown a second head.

"_Ohmygoshohmygosh!_ You've never seen Crescent Rose!"

And so they continued, Ruby singing the praises of her beloved _baby_ while he laughed at her enthusiasm.

* * *

**_Nightfall, on the rooftop..._**

_They're late._

Sheer force of will was all that kept him there, sitting atop a ventilation unit as the sun finally dipped beyond the horizon.

That, and the strange sense of _wanting_ them to show up. He wasn't going to start excusing it as an obligation to his Teammates, he genuinely _wanted_ to see them improve, of his own volition. Sure, they were exceedingly racist and generally rotten people, but his conversation with Blake that morning had given him a different perspective. If a _Belladonna_ was willing to vouch for a **_Schnee_**, then who was he to hold resentment for a few kids who likely didn't even know better?

Now, he didn't care if they were shitty people. They were still people, and all people learned through experience. If they failed to adapt to him, that was their own problem.

"And look at that, _actually_ on time for once! Here I thought-" He cut Cardin off as he stepped out onto the roof, blinking over to him and glaring at the trio like the slack-offs they were.

"Correction, Winchester, _you_ are late. I've been sitting up here for the better part of ten minutes. Now, are the three of you going to keep mouthing off, or are you going to fight?" They were still under the impression that this was just some late-night revenge spar. He would let them hold onto that. Russel snapped first, shoving through the other two with a feral growl as he lashed out with both daggers.

_Temper needs to be snuffed out._

Just as the boy cocked an arm back to slash again, Regalis flashed out at his arm. Silva used his Semblance to get behind Thrush, and gave a firm kick to his back that sent him sprawling out on the gravel. He shifted his head to the side, letting Cardin's opportunistic blow sail past him and slam into Sky's shoulder. He blinked over to the center of the rooftop, eyeing them all critically.

Sky was the wealest link as far as commitment and Semblance potency, Cardin held the role of crowd sweeper or tank if needed. His focus was stable in battle, even if he still got flustered. Russel was mostly an unknown due to his Semblance, but he was easily the quickest and most _unstable_ of the three.

All in all?

_I've got my work cut out for me._

* * *

**_Hello again! Back with a bigger chapter again, my muse is just having a fit right now._**

**_So, we got to see both an interaction with Cinder, as well as a spar between him and Pyrrha. Learned a bit about Regalis, and set the stage for he and Blake to spend more time around each other. Things are going to be pretty damn slow between them for a while, not really anything happening to sow the seeds of a relationship right now. I do not want that aspect of the story to seem rushed or unrealistic, so I'm going to build it very carefully and very slowly._**

**_So, thoughts on Dusteel? I wanted something that both made sense and could be conpared to soemthing in the actual show, and Raven's multi-colored Dust blade thingy was random enough that I felt introducing the material would satisfy that question. Unless I was the only one utterly confused by her weapon._**

**_My idea with this is that Silva will have access to Dust in a similar way to Weiss, without the whole Glyph side of it. It was either that or give him a gun, which I'm honestly not very keen on._**

**_Things will be broken up into more individual, episodic chapters after this, with an emphasis on develpment and seeing the changes Silva causes by being around._**

**_That's all I suppose, Buh-Bye!!!_**


	8. Preparations

**_-Semblance of Brotherhood-_**

_Chapter 8: Preparations_

The days seemed blend into each other, after those first two. Roman never contacted him, and that was probably for the best. After the general student body had settled in, they'd all been _swamped_ in schoolwork. He made it a consistent point to spar with Pyrrha at least every couple of days, the redhead had quickly become something of a friend, if just because they stood on the same level in the ring.

And then there was the his Team. Every night, he would drag them up to the roof so that they could _vent_. Well, except for Lark. He'd actually become quite managable as of late, didn't mouth off every time Silva took them to task. Russel was still... well, _Russel_. Cardin? He was a bit of mixed bag. He did what he was told, but there was always this lingering contempt beneath his faux obedience.

"Stay, _fucking, **still!" **_Silva smirked as he swayed back, making small dips to either side as Thrush did his best to walk the Faunus down with his daggers.

"Getting pissy won't make it easier to hit me, Thrush. Start fighting with some sense." He shot back, ducking a horizontal slash before planting a kick into the boy's sternum. The blow sent him skidding back, barely maintaining his balance enough to not fall on his ass. There was no hesitation, no thought of any kind, Russel just charged in and slashed wildly.

_Okay. Guess he didn't get the message._

This time, just as one of his subordinate's blades came within range, Silva slipped under his arm and turned back to face him. "At this point you're just being predictable. Anger is only useful if you keep some sense of wit, and right now you look like a raging Beowolf." He criticized, backstepping another lazily telegraphed swing. Russel just kept on, barely even managing to keep his Leader in range.

Just to prove his point, Silva caught Thrush's next right slash by the wrist and threw him to the side. "Get up." He ordered.

The nearly animalistic growl that escaped Russel's throat was pleasing to the ears. Shoving himself to his feet, the boy glared at him for several seconds.

"Why won't you draw your sword!?" Ah, so that was where all of this excessive fury was coming from. Kid felt _disrespected._

"You were the one who said the others were getting in your way. With just you, I don't feel the need to." That truth just seemed to infuriate him further.

"Fuck you!" He barked.

"Not for anything in the world, _kid."_ Silva saw the instant where Russel's temper _snapped_. With a feral roar, he made to drive both of his daggers into Silva's skull.

_Sloppy_.

He caught both strikes by the wrists before they landed, his grip like an iron vice that Thrush could only squirm uselessly against. "Let go!" He snapped. Silva pulled him close enough that all the boy could see was his blank face.

"There is a simple way out of this, Russel. Stop losing your shit and _think._" The use of his first name seemed to knock the boy's blind rage down a peg, Thrush actually taking a moment to analyse his position with some form of cognitive thought.

Then, he seemed to connect the dots. With a mighty _crack_, he slammed his forehead into Silva's with a burst of Aura. The sudden concussive force caused the Faunus to lose his grip, stumbling backward as both daggers grated against his own Aura for the first time since their fight in Goodwitch's class.

He looked back up at Russel, who was just staring at him with a look that Silva didn't really get. "Good job. You see why I told you to calm down?" His only reply was a stiff nod. "Like it or not, I have your best interests as a fighter in mind. If I say you need to cut a habit, it's because it would lead to complications on the battlefield." He turned away from the boy, and began to walk towards the stairwell.

"Now try and apply that kind of thinking during training tonight." With that, he stepped into the shadows and left. He'd have liked to stay and make sure the lesson stuck, but he had a promise to keep.

_Keep your shitty temper in check, Taro, this is supposed to be an apology._

When he reformed in the hallway outside of Team RWBY's dorm, Yang was just stepping out. She flinched upon seeing him, obviously not expecting him to just _be there_.

"Jeez, Sil, you need to give people a text or something before you just pop up like that!" The complaint was recieved with a smirk. The nickname, though, caught him off-guard. He didn't show the surprise, however.

"And what if I find making people jump satisfying?" Back in the Fang, everyone around him had gotten so used to his Semblance that it was practically expected for him to blip around camp. Here? It scared the _shit _out of people, and he _loved _that.

"Then you're an asshole." She deadpanned, drawing a small laugh out of him.

"I never claimed to be a good guy, you know." He pointed out, though he knew she had no idea just how deep that answer went. She rolled her eyes, shoulder bumping him to the side as she walked by him.

"Whatever, broody-moody. I'll see ya around!" He met her wave with one of his own, before turning back to her Team's room. The door had closed again, and after a few knocks the lock clicked.

On the other side was Weiss herself.

There was a long moment of silence, the two just staring at each other before the Schnee finally spoke. "Taro."

"Weiss." Then another pause. It took him nearly half a minute to start talking.

"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour the other day. If I'm being honest, I was just projecting my issues onto you, and that wasn't fair. I'm not asking for you actually forgive me or anything, but I _do_ regret how I treated you." He explained, pushing all of it out even though every word felt like a nail being driven into his fingers. It took her several seconds to say anything. Her eyes, while still cold and sharp, seemed to soften ever so slightly.

"I appreciate you having the maturity to actually apologise to me. That means a lot, and it only enforces what I've learned since then." When his gaze became questioning, she glanced away. "When you mentioned the fatalities in SDC owned mines, I didn't believe you. So, I decided to look into it and prove you wrong." She began, "But... it was just like you said. Two thousand Faunus employees died last year, all under Schnee Dust Company supervision. When I saw that..." She drifted off for a second, moisture gathering in trace amounts in her eyes.

"It just made me think, you know, 'why hasn't there been some sort of lawsuit?' And then I remember that my father has the best solicitors on Remnant, and enough money to keep any suit in court until it disappeared." She said, her words laced with frustration.

_Did... did a Schnee just **agree** with me!?_

The shock had him rooted in place. It went against all feasible logic, everything the Fang had ever taught him completely rejected the notion of a Schnee feeling remorse. Yet he could not deny the reality.

"Are you paralysed or something? It's not like I'm some mindless _slave,_ you know." As soon as she said it she flinched, and stopped to gauge his reaction, though Silva hardly found the term offensive.

"Sorry, and you're fine, I just... wasn't expecting this go as well." He muttered, the girl giving him a condescending 'really?' sort of look.

"Well, I'm willing to accept your apology, regardless. What you said obvously came from genuine pain, and it wouldn't be fair of _me_ to hold a grudge over that. And, though I loathe to say it," She let out a mildly annoyed breath. "you were right."

He wasn't sure what to say, but she seemed to pick up on that.

"Now, I believe it would be prudent for us to start over. Hello there, my name is Weiss Schnee. I have a habit of being stubborn and bitchy, but I'm working on it." She said with an amused grin, reaching out with an open hand. The gesture caused him to tip his head back and laugh, not the cynical chuckle from before, but a real, hardy laugh that shook his body. It took him a bit to get over the insanity of the situation. Without warning, he took her hand and shook it firmly.

"Silva Taro, I'm shitty at being a good person in general, but I'm here to try and fix that." He replied, earning a giggle from her in return. Silva couldn't help but notice again how absurd this whole thing was. "Do you have any idea how strange it is, as a Faunus, to see someone from your family be so open to the truth? I had every expectation that you would just cement yourself as correct and not bother looking into it objectively. Forgive me if that sounds biased, but it's almost surreal."

Her eyes snapped wide at that, but she actively seemed to stifle her immediate reaction. Offended rage was forcefully quelled into a pointedly annoyed glare. "By all rights, I should slap you for that. But I won't, because then I'd just be falling into old habits." She reached out and gripped the door. "Good day, Silva."

And then it slammed into his nose with enough force that the entire hallway shook as he collided with the opposite door. Pain blossomed in his face, a pulsing headache setting in before he could even pick himself up.

_Probably deserved that, honestly. _

But, overall, that had gone a hundred times better than he'd expected.

* * *

**_Later..._**

"Ah, come the _fuck_ on, man! I literally _just_ got done with Port's essay!" His partner begged, brandishing the assignment as though it would change something. Silva gave him a flat look.

"Do you think the Grimm will leave you be just because your mind grows weary?" He pointed out, earning an exasperated glare. "What? It doesn't do us any good to treat training like a _game_. Our enemy does not tire, and so we must prepare for the inevitable exhaustion of a prolonged battle with them." Cardin didn't seem to have any arguement ready, because there wasn't one.

"Well," He began, eyes flicking over to Lark's for some form of support. He recieved none from the boy, who was sprawled out on his bed in an attempt to relax some before training. "Ugh, god damn it. Fine, Mutt, I'll be ready in a few." He grumbled, turning away and dragging himself over to the bathroom.

"You'd think he would know better by now." Sky remarked, one arm draped over his eyes. "Dumbass." He scoffed. Silva paced to his own bed, shedding his jacket and folding it before laying it down on the mattress. Lark lifted his arm and glanced over to him, "You look like shit."

"How _perceptive_." Silva drawled, palming his forehead as another throbbing pulse of pain shot through his head. Sky cracked a grin.

"Let me guess, Nikos kick your ass again?"

"Not quite. Door slammed into my face, wasn't expecting it." He corrected.

"Ouch. Who'd you piss off?" Lark asked.

"No one important." With that, he reached over to his nightstand and retrieved a small bottle of painkillers. Popping the lid open, he swallowed one of the small pills and resealed the bottle. He let out a sigh as he fell back, flopping onto his bed.

"Yo, you got any idea why Russel was acting weird earlier? I asked him, but he just called me an animal-loving fag and stomped right back out the door." The recounting put a sour look on Silva's face.

_That fucking prick._

"We did some one-on-one after class, he said you and Cardin were getting in his way. I think he was offended that I didn't bother drawing Regalis, but frankly that's his problem." He heard Sky shift in his bed.

"_We _were getting in _his_ way!?" He exclaimed, "That short _fucker_, I literally cover his ass twenty-four seven!" Silva just gave him a shrug. He had a point. Most of the time nowadays it wasn't Silva who checked Thrush's delinquency, it was Sky. Granted, the boy still had a subtle distaste for Faunus, and was certainly not a _good kid _by any stretch, but he _did_ seem to understand that being abrasive was pointless. Instead, he just _rolled with it._

Silva didn't bother saying anything as he vanished, they were familiar enough with his Semblance to not jump.

He reformed a moment later at their usual spot on the roof, the moonlight dulled by the cover of clouds.

"Took ya long enough, freak." Silva was barely able to jerk himself into a sidestep in time to dodge an overhead slash from behind. His eyes snapped over to Thrush, who was standing there with a pleased smirk on his face. "Feels good to finally put you on edge."

"Given that you still missed, I wouldn't get too proud." Silva shot back as Regalis flashed from its sheath. "Cardin and Sky are going to be here within the next five minutes. Try and land a hit before then."

Russel's smirk widened, "Don't mind if I do." Then he rushed forward, his daggers lashing out with more control than Silva had expected. He stepped aside, his blade intercepting one of Thrush's and slinging it away. The boy recovered quickly, his second dagger rising from below as he pivoted to keep Silva in his line of sight. He backstepped the strike.

_Guess he decided to actually try thinking for once. _

He parried a jab, before reversing Regalis' momentum and redirecting Russel's follow-up to his left. "You need to be more aggressive." He noted, easily catching both knives as the boy attempted a cross-slash. He applied heavy pressure, locking the two in place so he could explain. "Being cautious comes second to fighting smart. You use dual blades, each nearly a foot in length, and so you're at a constant disadvantage in terms of reach." To further his point, he released the deadlock and slipped Regalis between Russel's blades, letting it rest with the tip pressed against the boy's forehead.

Thrush tried to retaliate, but he simply didn't have the reach. He flailed uselessly for a brief instant before falling still. His eyes locked with Silva's, teeth bared in frustration. "First you tell me to think, and now I'm thinking too much?" He griped, "Fuck's sake."

"Combat is complicated, Thrush. On a base level, your weapon benefits from creativity, speed, and calculated aggression. I'm not saying you need to think less, I'm saying that you need to do that thinking while eating up my space. Stop trying to out-duel me at my most comfortable range, make the fight one you are comfortable with." He pushed lightly, just enough to send Russel stumbling for a couple steps. He recovered quickly, taking a deep breath as he settled into a low stance.

"Gotcha." Before Silva could do anything, Russel had burst into a full sprint, Aura flaring across his legs. Within a half-second he was on him, blades flashing about in a whirlwind of careful fury.

Silva was immediately put on a backpedal, jerking Regalis from one block to another in a bid to keep up. There wasn't room to use circular momentum now, the best he could manage was keeping his blade close and bashing each strike aside with the base of the sword. It still wasn't anything close to what he'd fought in the past, Adam and that Death Stalker outclassed Russel's raw speed several times over, but unlike either of them, the boy was devouring every inch of space between them without the slightest hint of overextension.

Since when did Russel learn this quickly?

He couldn't help but smile at the sudden progress, it was exactly the kind of improvement they needed for Forever Fall.

"Yo," Sky's voice cut their spar short before Russel was able to press his offensive any further. Silva flickered over to the boy's blindside and kicked him in his partner's direction. He caught himself, if only barely. "Agh! Asshole!" He growled.

"I think you'll get over it." Sky quipped, palming Russel's shoulder in reassurance. He shot the ash-haired boy a venomous glare, jerking away.

"Fuck off, I was _this_ damn close to beating that mangy bastard!"

Silva rolled his eyes, "Sure, if you call making me give ground beating me." He remarked, just as Cardin lumbered put of the stairwell. It was easy to forget just how _massive_ the kid was. He towered over even Sky by a solid foot or so.

The two smaller members of Team SCRL stood at attention in his presence, having come to see him sort of as their defacto leader. Silva had been more delegated to drill instructor, but he hardly cared. Winchester was a good commander, no two ways about it. He, on the other hand, preferred to just _fight_. He kept things simple, _and violent._

"Cut the shit, you two." Cardin snapped, shoving his way through them and coming to a stop a few feet from Silva. "Oi Mutt, the Headmaster stopped by our room after you left. Said he wanted you to head to his office when you get a chance." Silva nodded in acknowledgement.

"Alright, SCRL, enough idle chit-chat." He said, causing the other two to pay attention if only because that was the first time he'd called them by their Team name. "As you know, we're going to Forever Fall in the morning. There will likely be significantly higher concentrations of Grimm than the Emerald Forest, so I want to make several things painful clear to each of you." He paused for a moment, "But first, I have a single question. What, in your opinion, is the single most dangerous aspect of any Grimm?"

The three seemed caught off-guard at first, before Sky spoke up. "I'd say it's their tenacity. Fuckers just never quit."

"You're close, but not exact. Thrush?"

"They don't need rest. You'll never _outlast_ a Grimm in a fight."

"A good thing to remember, but not what I'm looking for." Before he could call on Cardin, the boy cut in.

"Their numbers." He said simply, and Silva couldn't help but smirk.

"Bingo. Now give me specifics."

"Even if you kill a thousand Grimm, twice as many will come for you because of the stress of battle. Unless you have a way out of the whole situation, they'll just keep throwing themselves at you until your body gives out." Cardin explained.

"Exactly. When you think of Grimm, most people envision a single Beowolf or Ursa, but in reality it's never like that. If you hunker down and try to weather the storm, that's signing your own death warrant. When dealing with Grimm you _must_ stay moving. Control your position, make it so difficult for them to pin you down that they never take your flank." Silva's gaze turned cold. "Out there, tomorrow, we'll be in the thick of it. _Expect_ pain. _Expect_ blood. _Expect_ for this entire trip to go to hell the moment we let our guard down. I _refuse_ to bring a body back to Beacon with me, and if that means being overly cautious, then so be it."

He stopped, drawing in a deep, soothing breath. "Point blank, stick together like sap tomorrow. No wandering, no stupid lapses of judgement. Cardin, you'll be calling the shots during battle. I'll kill as many as I can before they reach you three, but once that perimeter is broken it'll be your job to keep us together." Cardin gave him a firm nod.

"That said, I am still the Leader of this Team. If I give an order, it takes priority over anything else. I will not waste your time, anything I tell you to do will be absolutely essential to our survival. Can you live with that?" They didn't give him a straight answer to that, but the lack of immediate retort told him they would listen when it mattered.

_I guess that's all I could ask for. _He gave each of them one more once over, "Now then, lets get to the part where I kick the shit out of you." He remarked, lips curling maliciously as the three shifted into a defensive formation.

_No hesitation. That's good._

Silva kicked off into a sprint, rapidly closing the distance between them and popping off of one foot into the air. Before any of them could act, he snapped his arms close, throwing his body into a tight spin. After two full rotations, his left leg flashed outward, slamming into the shaft of Cardin's Mace with enough Aura-infused force to buckle the boy's guard. By the time Silva's toes reached the ground again, his eyes caught a flicker of movement and the shimmer of metal from his left and right. In response, he threw his upper body backward as Lark's spear skewered the air he'd been occupying a moment ago, and spun out of the lean into a sidestep that left Russel overextended.

_Still too eager, though._

In a blur of motion, Silva used his off-kilter sidestep to lash out at Sky with Regalis, who was only _just_ able to retract his weapon in time to deflect the strike. What he failed to stop entirely, however, was the sucker punch that followed as Silva let his structure crumble against his foe's staff to close even more distance. Satisfied with his assault thus far, he leapt back a couple of yards to give his Teammate's an opportunity for an offensive of their own.

No words were spoken, they'd all figured out _very_ early on that he tended to punish conversation more severely than most other mistakes.

Instead, he noted Cardin inclining his head slightly, and how both Sky and Thrush seemed to mirror that exact movement in response.

Without further warning, Russel rushed towards him with both daggers held in a reverse grip. The delinquent of the Team led with a series of quick, concise swipes that Silva merely backstepped. This seemed to be the expectation, though, as Russel just maintained that pressure. Not enough to challenge his Leader, but enough to capture his attention. Then, just as Silva was about to retaliate, his instincts sent a pulse of adrenaline through his heart as he leapt backward once more, barely avoiding Sky's blade as it slipped underneath Thrush's armpit.

_Something new every day, it seems._

Ignoring the grin that tugged at his lips, Silva rejoined the fray.

* * *

**_Hello again!_**

**_Sorry for the wait, had a lot of irl bullshit going on for a while._**

**_So, we're already beginning to see Silva affect the world around him in the form of Weiss, and her views of Faunus. It's not exactly the most massive shift, but it will make things later in this volume a bit more complicated. Note that her opinion on the White Fang specifically hasn't been touched, however._**

**_Next chapter should be up soon, Buh-Bye!_**


	9. Forever Fall

**_-Semblance of Brotherhood-_**

_Chapter 9: Forever Fall_

Silva jerked upright, a hand clasped tightly over his mouth as beads of icy sweat dripped from his brow onto his thumb. A torrent of panic and fear pulsed along with the rapid beating of his heart, but those feelings slowly began to drift once he was able to process where he was. Wide, cerulean eyes drank in the sight of a bland yet familiar dormitory. A glance to his left revealed the vague outlines of three prone forms, all laying in beds identical to his own. Pale moonlight filtered through drawn curtains as he let his hand fall back to the bed, giving way to quick, feverish breaths that failed to calm after several moments.

_I'm losing my fucking mind, aren't I? What was I even drea...ming…_

Images flashed in still frames through his mind.

_Blood. Snow._

_A Scythe._

**_Mom._**

Something twisted in his gut, and with uneasy footing he stumbled from his bed to where he knew a bathroom to be, just a few feet away. He ripped the door open, the sickly sensation in his stomach spilling over as he fell to his knees at the toilet. His body heaved, eyes clenched shut as he gagged on the bile which forced its way from his throat. Time ceased to exist. For what felt like an eternity, he sat there. Even when he could vomit no more, his insides seared and spasmed, the pain so intense that his eyes burned with tears.

After a time, it finally passed. In its wake he was left shaking, muscles clenched tight as the nausea swept over him.

"F-fuck..." He breathed, pushing himself to the side and falling limply onto the tile floor.

* * *

**_Five hours later..._**

The soft breeze which greeted him upon stepping off the Bullhead did wonders to even him out, somehow. Vibrant autumn-colored leaves painted the forest in a beautiful off-red haze while the deep thrum of the airship cast a subtle, rhythmic buzz in his chest.

_Depending on how this goes, I may be returning here sometime. Even better than the perch back in Beacon._

"Alright, children, let's not idle about. Each Team approach, take a crate of jars, and have it back here, full, by sundown." Mrs. Goodwitch announced, swiftly stepping aside so that the student's could get to work. He turned to look at Cardin, nodding to the woods around them as he explained.

"I'm going to find a clearing to use. It's essential that we have a decent open area to manage the Grimm in. Make one of them get the jars, and meet up with me in ten minutes." He said, his tone clipped and words to the point. Cardin simply gave him a sharp nod, before moving to deal with their Teammates just behind them.

They didn't crack jokes, or waste time with idle, useless conversation. There was no sneaking off to bully their inferiors, or _anything_ short of being efficient in the tasks assigned to them. Sky filed into line for the jars while Russel moved to the east in search of a clearing.

He did not order them around, they'd come to that understanding back on their first day as a Team. It was how they'd managed to not tear each other apart, how he'd indirectly molded them into a cohesive three man unit-plus one.

Silva did not give _orders_. He didn't expect them to follow his every demand.

But when he _did_ have something to say, they knew it was in their best interest to listen.

It wasn't hard to find a clearing, given his Semblance. Maybe two or three minutes of casting his senses across the forest and he'd honed in on a fairly large opening in the forest. He cupped his hands to his mouth, and sounded a three-noted whistle that he'd shown the others before the trip. After a few seconds, three more whistles of the same variety responded to his own, the message having been received and confirmed.

Melting into the shadow of a nearby tree, Silva moved over to the clearing and took stock of the situation. Right off he noticed two Beowolves across from him, probably thirty feet if he had to guess. Eyes flicking from side to side, he was able to say for certain that these were the only Grimm in the area at the moment.

Without so much as a whisper, he rose from one's shadow with a precise thrust, impaling its heart before it could properly register his existence. A flick of the wrist later, he'd lopped off the other's left arm as it lunged at him before snapping Regalis high and cleaving through the beast's throat. Black ichor splattered against his face before sizzling lightly as it began to evaporate.

_That was a sloppy decapitation. I need to work on my cutting angles a bit while I'm here._

As he made his way back to the opposite side of the clearing, he spotted the rest of his Team setting up the tap. Russel was on sap-duty, while Sky and Cardin stood at the ready around him, spear and mace propped over their shoulders. Cardin met his gaze as he approached, "I was expecting more Grimm." He said plainly, almost looking a bit bored.

"Don't complain about an easy mission." Silva snipped back casually, taking up a position in front of both Sky and the Winchester. Cardin dropped the conversation, as he should have, turning his eyes back to the treeline. It seemed they'd been blessed with a peaceful lull for the moment, but after a jar or two they knew that Grimm were bound to pick up on their scent.

For several minutes, all was quiet. The only sounds he could pick up were those of the rustling trees and the periodic _drip_ of treesap acculmulating in their jars.

Then, as their third jar came close to reaching half capacity, his ears flicked as they caught the distinct snap of a branch to his right. Cardin seemed to hear it as well, turning his head to get a better look before his frame tensed and his mace came to bare. "Four Beo's, one Ursa!" He snapped, feet grinding into the dirt as he held his ground. After checking to make sure they wouldn't be flanked, Silva flickered over to the small party of Grimm and began his slaughter with a clean slash all the way through the nearest Beowolf's waist. He swayed back immediately, the outstretched claws of another ghosting through where he'd been a moment ago. Before it could follow up, Silva dropped a heavy stomp onto its knee that knocked it off balance, which he capitalized on by goring the thing's throat.

"Incendiary shell incoming!" Cardin barked from behind him, to which Silva teleported a yard or so to the left just as a massive Dust shell collided with the earth within two or so feet of the Grimm. An instant later, Silva felt a light concussive shockwave roll over him as the immediate area around the beasts was engulfed in flames. Without bothering to waste time confirming the kills, Silva snapped his head over to Sky.

"Handle that fire, I'll watch your post." Without another word, Sky darted over to the collateral damage caused by Cardin's grenade, his Aura pulsing ever so faintly as the air around him stilled completely. He must have dispersed the air around the flames, because not a moment later the fire seemed suffocate out of nowhere.

_He's getting better. Still not combat-ready, but it's at least got enough utility now to actually be helpful._

Moving back to his original post, Silva couldn't help but notice something... _off._

_Where's the wildlife?_

They hadn't seen a single living thing the entire time they'd been there. In fact, the only natural sound he'd heard since stepping off the Bullhead was the wind brushing against his ears.

Glancing up, he was met with an ominous, overcast sky. Grey clouds rolled across the horizon, and normally he's have just made note of it and moved on. Now, though, it seemed too sudden. Too well-timed.

A drop of rain collided with his lip. Then another, and soon he and his Team were caught in a downpour.

"Fucking damn it! I thought it wasn't supposed to rain till this weekend." He heard Russel growl, suddenly making this whole, strange picture _click _his head.

"Keep you heads on a swivel. Thrush, leave the sap and take up my six. Something's up." Silva announced suddenly, causing his Teammates to give him a confused look before scanning the now obscure treeline around them. The rain only grew in intensity.

He wasn't sure specifically what he was reacting to. There was just a certain... _mood_ in the air. It was so thick with forboding that he was actually getting _goosebumps_.

Then, as he looked closer at the edge of the clearing, his Faunus vision revealed the source of his paranoia.

_Grimm._

The entire forest floor was soaked in pitch black, the shifting masses peppered with twinkling red pinpricks. He couldn't discern individuals in the thick of the storm, but there had to be hundreds.

_Thousands._

"Retreat. Back to the Bullhead, **NOW!"** He shouted, turning on a dime and bursting into a full sprint. It took the others another half second to react, falling into step behind him. They tore through the underbrush, pushing their Aura to the fore to smash through like wrecking balls.

It took them less than a minute to get back, other Teams were already gathered around the airship with a myriad of expression among them. Fear. Confusion. Naive grins of anticipation. Grim acceptance.

He felt equal parts the first and the last.

Professor Goodwitch didn't speak to them, just gave Silva a nod of acknowledgement as they stopped near Teams RWBY and JNPR. He briskly paced over to Pyrrha, who had a very uneasy look about her.

"What's going on? Why aren't we loading into the Bullhead?" He asked immediately, to which she drew in a long, shaky breath.

"The electrical systems that control the ship are messed up for some reason. We're... stuck." She explained, her grip on Milo white and trembling. He didn't blame her, not in the least. If they couldn't leave, this was easily a worst-case scenario. Just the sheer mass of Grimm he'd seen back in the clearing would be enough to wear them down over time.

"Just focus on keeping each other alive. That's all we can do." He said, hoping to help her get ahold of herself. She nodded, more to herself than him.

"Right."

And just like that, everything went to hell.

Something _massive_ crashed into the Bullhead from above, the world flashing white as a powerful explosion slammed into their backs. His feet left the ground for at least two seconds before he slammed into the dirt back-first.

The daze from the explosion was short-lived, Aura cushioning the concussive force enough that he was able to throw himself to his feet almost immediately. A glance to either side showed his fellow students scattered about the area, Teams jumbled and mixed. He spotted Blake a few feet away, as well as the Arc boy and Pyrrha, who'd seemingly latched onto him as to not lose each other.

He made his way over, reaching them just as Grimm began to spill forth from the trees.

"Everyone alright?" He asked, recieving nods from each. "In that case, find your Teams and form up on the Bullhead." They seemed to agree with that, Blake's eyes lighting up as she noticed something over his shoulder.

"Yang! Over here!" She shouted, reaching high with one arm to get the blonde's attention. Silva turned away, flickering over to a stray student who'd been flung especially far and cleaved a Beowolf in two as it tried to flank the boy.

"Move towards the fire!" He barked, causing the kid to bolt back towards the airship. Silva took the brief moment to scan the thrity or so other students around him. Team RWBY was all together already, JNPR as well. After a moment he finally caught sight of Sky and Russel, who were in the midst of cutting down a small group of Beowolves, with even more Boarbatusk on the approach.

_They can handle it. Need to get Cardin._

He didn't need to look very hard. The moment his focus returned to the group, he was met with the sight of his partner atop the now smoking Bullhead, raining Dust shells upon the Grimm below. He wasn't alone, either, Ruby and several other ranged Huntsmen were posted up in the wreckage, the fires swiftly tamed by the rain.

He sprinted over to them, teleporting to Cardin's side. The boy's eyes flicked over to him in acknowledgement.

"I'll use my Semblance to look for a way out of this hellhole, keep the others alive!" Silva had to half-shout, melting into shadow before his Teammate could reply.

_No time, no time, no time, think faster, damn it!_

* * *

**_With Cardin..._**

_Bastard. Just up and vanishes._

The roar of another shell incinerating a multitude of Grimm fell flat on his ears, his hands numbly letting his next cartridge slide down the barrel of his mace before bringing the launcher up to take aim.

_Burn, you ugly fucks!_

He planted this shell in the middle of a whole pack of Beowolves, the incendiary Dust cloaking them in flames. He couldn't help but hope his other Teammates were faring well.

_Gotta trust Sky and Russel to stay safe, focus on keeping these fucking creeps away from the Bullhead._

Grip tightening, he loosed yet another round into the black masses which poured endlessly from across the clearing. Cardin reached for the next shell, only to grasp nothing. A pang of panic hit him, but he just as quickly shoved it down.

_Or I could just run out of fucking ammo!_

A frustrated growl escaped his clenched jaws as he leapt down into the melee, bringing his mace down on an Ursa as he landed. The blow cracked against the back of its head, caving in the skull in a single blow. He torqued his body to the right, letting his weapon lag behind to build momentum before slamming it into a Beowolf's snout with enough sheer force to remove its lower jaw. He let his stance spin with the strike, before twisting the angle and bringing it back down in a crushing hammer-strike to the top of its head.

"Cardin!" A familiar voice called to him, the worry in his chest vanishing and Sky and Russel slid to a stop in front of him, the latter turned to the Grimm to watch their backs. "What do we do? I haven't seen Silva anywhere!" Lark asked.

"He's looking for a route we can take out of this damned forest, for now we just gotta stay alive!" He explained, but he didn't see how Sky responded.

He was too busy staring at the full _murder _of adult Nevermore that were descending from the clouds.

"Nevermore! Focus on their wings!" He heard Goodwitch yell, but by the time the words would have helped it was far too late. The first slammed into the Bullhead like a train falling at terminal velocity. Talons the size of his body shredded into the already twisted and scorched hull like aluminum foil. His frame stumbled back, a rush of air buffeting him as the massive thing _lifted the wreckage into the air._

_Oh god._

He saw bodies falling from the now mulched Bullhead, others who hadn't left the perch in time. The fall was already too far. The wet _crack_ of their bones crumbling and the sound of Aura shattering didn't even feel _real_.

He watched as one of their corpses was beset by Grimm. Bloody sprayed as arteries were roughly ripped open, but there were no cries. The kid was already dead.

"Fall back to the trees!" The sound of Goodwitch's stern, cold commands pierced his trance in an instant, his body moving of its own accord in a careful backpedal towards the treeline behind them. The next Grimm to approach were nearly a dozen Beowolves, with a trio of Ursai not far behind. His head snapped to his Teammates.

"We're going to cover them. Let's move!" He announced, the both of them giving him a wide-eyed look. "That's a fucking _order! _Make sure everyone gets out of this clearing!" Cardin bellowed, his mace caving a Beowolf's skull before catching the next's overhead swipe on the shaft. He planted a boot into its chest with a mighty surge of Aura, sending tumbling back into the black horde.

The two seemed to get with the program, fanning out and aiding their peers wherever people were getting overwhelmed. It wasn't much, but he wasn't about to just break down and run away.

_We're gonna do this right. I won't let anyone else die._

He shifted to the side, mace swinging in an upward circle as a Boarbatusk attempted to gore him. The blades of his weapon ripped into the soft underflesh of it, the sheer momentum sending the pig-Grimm flying.

Then he fell back five paces, and waited for the next.

* * *

**_With Silva..._**

Ichor dampened his clothes as he ripped Regalis' black-stained blade from the dissolving corpse of another Grimm. He didn't look to see what kind, just melted back into the darkness as dozens more swarmed where he'd been.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

He'd seen the moment Nevermore descended on his classmates. Each individual Nevermore was easily as big as the one he'd killed during Initiation.

_Please move for the trees, don't leave yourselves open._

He started back in their direction. He kept a steady pace, conserving Aura as best he could, and made it back nearly a full five minutes later.

He reformed next to Goodwitch, who was near the head of the group, doing her part in driving the Grimm away while they moved through the trees. She noticed him within a second, expression cold.

"What is it, Mr. Taro? You should be helping your Team in the back, I-" He cut her off.

"Did the Bullhead carry an emergency distress beacon?" He bit out, her nodding in return.

"Ozpin already knows we're out here. There should be another Bullhead on the way with backup within the next half hour, another two for them to find us." She explained, which managed to quell his panic somewhat.

"Meaning we need to get to high ground, and weather the storm. I found a hill that should work, just follow me." She nodded again, turning to the other students.

"Everyone! We're moving to higher ground, stay close to each other!"

Silva cast his gaze to the steep hill he'd referenced, giving himsel a brief moment to get his shit together.

_Focus on the present._

* * *

**_Hello again!_**

**_So... I might have done a little tinkering with the direction of this story. Originally, I was going to wait till the Volume finale to make any massive canon divergence, but it occured to me that it wouldn't really make sense that way. Salem and Cinder both like to be very progressive, discreet or not, so it would be weird for them to leave Silva around and not do anything. Loose ends and that stuff._**

**_Oh and, uh, WARNING: PLOT ARMOR WILL CEASE TO EXIST FROM HERE ON. IF A CHARACTER IS IN A HOPELESS SITUATION, I WILL NOT PULL SOMETHING OUT OF MY ASS JUST TO SAVE THEM. THEY EITHER SURVIVE OR THEY DON'T._**

**_Buh-Bye!!!_**


	10. I May Fall

**_-Semblance of Brotherhood-_**

_Chapter 10: I_ _May Fall_

**_Two and a half hours until help arrives..._**

Sky dropped to a knee, shoving the pommel of his halberd into the dirt behind him as an Ursa Major barreled into him. Its gaping maw swallowed the blade, black ichor spraying forth as he severed arteries. With a firm tug, he ripped it from the already dissolving beast and gave the polearm a twirl, parrying a Beowolf's claws as Russel rushed out from behind him and drove one of his blades into its throat.

Sweat and rain soaked his body, grey hair fell from its usual slicked-back style, damp and stuck to his face. Half an hour of consistent combat was tiring, but still well within what he'd trained with his Team to handle.

_"Think simple. Kill simple. Conserve yourself however possible without compromising effectiveness."_

Silva's words echoed in his mind as a pair of Ursa locked onto him. Letting out a quick huff, he jutted Feather's Edge out, the spear-end piercing the closest's neck. Within the next second, he tore it back out and slung his weapon around, the wicked azure axe-head decapitating the second Grimm just as it came within range.

He felt Russel's shoulder collide with his own, a light bump to get his attention. Sky looked over to him, "What's up?"

"Cardin's having us back up Team RWBY. Their down a fighter, not handling it very well, and the Grimm are thicker on that side of the hill." He explained. Sky gave him a nod and fell into step with his partner, thankful for the very brief break. As he jogged, he gave the hilltop a quick once-over.

Their defense was holding, but only because everyone's Aura was still up. Various Team's were encircling the hill's crest, where the wounded were given relative safety. It was all they could do, though he loathed to admit it.

_This was just too damn sudden. Where the fuck did they all come from?_

That god-awful rain wasn't helping, either.

When they made it to RWBY's post, the two were met with a chaotic mess. The blonde and the Heiress were slaughtering the Grimm in a vengeful fury, while the black-haired one, Mrs. Goodwitch, and Silva were knelt next to the Team's bloodied and crying Leader. Her arm looked funny, almost definitely out of socket, and a deep wound was carved into her side. They had her layed on her good side, his own Leader getting a grip on the bad arm as he spoke.

"Keep pressure on the gouge, and hold her still. I'm going to re-set her shoulder, and it's going to be extremely painful." He stated, tone dead and clipped. They did so, Glynda gripping the poor girl's hand and bracing her by the back of the neck while the other girl maintained pressure on the flesh wound with an already crimson rag.

Silva didn't give any warning, driving her dislocated appendage back into its original place with a sickening **_pop._**

**"AAAHHH!"** She screamed, body reflexively convulsing in agony.

"Sky! Get the fuck over here!" He heard Cardin bark, snapping him out of it. He moved over to them, stopping beside Silva's partner as the _goliath_ finished turning yet another Ursa to a broken pulp.

"She was on the Bullhead when it got snatched, didn't tell anyone her Aura was down and got hit." Cardin explained to him simply, and Sky couldn't help but grimace.

_Poor kid._

There wasn't time to think on it further, the Grimm didn't allow for it.

He dipped behind Russel as the bladed whirlwind started carving into Grimm, choosing specific moments where his arms raised to strike from unexpected angles. Cardin bulldozed any that tried to slip by, and just like that they fell into their roles. Russel was the buffer. Sky kept them both covered. Cardin ran interception on any Grimm who thought better than to fight them.

It was a machine they'd been oiling for a month, built to be simple, unexpected, and effective. This formation was perfect, given the situation.

Until it wasn't.

Something fast and sharp bit into his Aura from above, two more slamming against him before he could even look up. They buckled his stance, throwing him to the mud along with Russel.

"Nevemore!" He heard Cardin shout, gritting his teeth before shoving himself to his feet. His partner rose a second later, eyes glinting dangerously.

"Piece of shit!" Thrush roared, his Aura spreading to one of his daggers before he hurled it at the low-flying creature. The blade sunk in between the armor-like feathers, a sudden _bang_ followed as the weapon spontaneously exploded, blowing a meter-wide hole in its left wing.

_Wait... what?_

It had to be his Semblance. Regardless, now they had to put this thing down for keeps.

The instant the Nevermore landed, he and his Teammates rushed it. He fell back a bit, letting Cardin and Russel start the melee. The former opened with an overhead smash to intercept the thing's good wing before it could unleash any more feather-missiles. Russel used the opening to slip underneath it and tear his remaining dagger across its right Achilles tendon. The beast's footing crumbled, and in that moment Sky saw his opening. He burst forward, lunged to the side of the disabled bird's head, and then drove Feather's Edge into its eye socket with all his strength.

He kept it there until it started dissolving.

* * *

**_Two hours until help arrives, wi_****_th Blake..._**

"Just keep looking at me, Ruby. I know you're tired, but you need to stay awake." She breathed, the dull, silvery eyes of her Leader dragging a lump up her throat. Ruby nodded lightly, purposefully trying to widen her eyes.

"Where's Yang?" She asked, her voice small, tired. "Is she okay?" Blake felt her chest pang, but did her best to shove it down.

"Yang's fine, she's just paying those Grimm back for hurting you."

...

"I'm sorry." Ruby blurted out, casting her gaze downward. "I should have told you guys my Aura was gone." Blake was going to console her, even if she wasn't sure what to say, but someone beat her to it.

"You're right. It was foolish to ignore your Aura like that, even if you had good intentions." Silva was uncompromising, detached, even. "But reiterating the obvious is pointless. What you should be focused on is what you can learn from this mistake. Don't say 'I should have.' Say 'I will.'" His words, blunt and apathetic as they were, seemed to strike a cord in the young Team Leader. She looked up at him, her weary expression stretching into a soft smile.

"Yeah. I won't do this again. Ever."

"Good. Now quiet down for a bit, I know how painful it is to talk with a shredded diaphragm." Ruby giggled, instantly flinching as the sudden motion agitated her injury. Blake noticed Silva look over to her, meeting his gaze.

"Keep her awake for me? I'm not exactly a medic." He joked, and for a moment she wanted to slap him for making light of this. But, she'd be a liar if she said she wasn't smiling at the quip.

"I got it. Looks like the bleeding's pretty much stopped, at least until we have to move her again." Silva nodded, fading into nothingness before her eyes. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

_Ugh, that's creepy!_

* * *

**_With Silva..._**

_Back to what I do best, then._

He tore from the shadows, teeth bared and his blade pulsing with the chilling hum of Ice Dust. Regalis stayed close, the slightlest flick of his wrist slinging the sword in a fluid stream of momentum that never strayed more than a foot from him.

He was covering a gap in their defenses, an area where the Grimm had overwhelmed his fellow students and forced them to fall back. No so great an area that he would overextend himself trying to keep the tide at bay, yet wide enough that he had more room to fight than he could have asked for.

Silva had never been a fan of teamwork, in truth. Given the chance, he would almost always handle things himself if he knew he was up to it. It wasn't that he disliked help, or that he had some arbitrary honor-complex. Silva knew the advantage held in superior numbers, the benefit of multiple minds working in tandem.

Yet, in spite of all that, the boy couldn't help but feel so much _better_ when it was just him. He never had to look away from his foe to keep track of an ally, instead his focus was constant and pure. With so many Grimm rushing him at once, he didn't even allow himself to _blink_.

No flesh wounds. No double-tap. He didn't give the fuckers a chance to get back up.

Perhaps it was the stress, or maybe just adrenaline, but his veins hadn't felt so electrified in years. Each flourish of his blade felt fluid, yet unstoppable. Every blink of his Semblance seemed even more accurate and responsive than the last.

The gunfire was starting to die out, now. He could hear the numerous 'clicks' as people ran out of ammunition. It was in that small gap, that moment in which half of their defensive force completely _stopped firing_, that the line they'd all been holding until now shattered like glass. The Grimm, almost as though they _recognized _the opportunity, went into a mad frenzy. Black bodies began throwing themselves ferally at their prey, those who weren't prepared were already being swarmed by Beowolves before their teammates could lift a finger.

The repeating sound of Aura shattering echoed around Silva's ears like the applause of death. He didn't stop. With the tide turning south like it was, he couldn't afford to let his section of the line be overridden until the _last_ possible moment. He flickered from one beast to the next, Regalis mowing through their bodies with every ounce of strength and efficiency he could manage. His muscles were starting to really _feel_ how hard he was pushing.

_You can keep going, Taro. Give them a chance to regroup._

He knew that they didn't have much longer. Pretty soon the only people still fighting would be their best, and then they would fall not long after that. Even if the Bullheads arrived _right then_, more than _half_ of the Freshman-Class were either dead or injured.

_People should be catching their second wind any minute now, though. That might buy us just long enough, hopefully. _

In the midst of his thoughts, something slipped in his posture. His left foot shifted a bit farther to the side than it needed to, and just like that his boot lost any traction it had with the mud. His ass slammed into the ground, an Ursa's jaws latching onto his shin before he could catch his bearings. Its maw scraped against his Aura, the sheer pressure of the bite felt un-ironically like a beartrap. He kicked savagely at the beast's nose, but it was like the thing didn't even feel it. It just kept _grinding_ its teeth against his leg. He could feel his bones _creaking _under it.

"Get the _fuck off_ of me!" Silva growled, his blade shearing into the Ursa's skull. It didn't make it all the way through, he just didn't have the leverage he normally would.

"Fucking," He yanked it out, then _slammed_ it back down into its head. It reflexively clamped down with new vigor, a piercing pain shooting through his leg. Something audibly _snapped_.

**_"Die!"_ **A third, wrathful cleaver-strike severed its head from the rest of its body. Ichor spurted into the air, speckling his body. Those vice-like jaws finally fell slack, and Silva scrambled back to his feet. His leg nearly buckled, but it didn't outright fold at the fracture.

_Not totally broken. Fucking hurts, though. Keep going._

He switched feet, letting his weight fall on his other leg. Rapid footsteps approached from behind, he turned and let out a sigh of relief as the rest of Team SCRL rushed past him. Cardin spared a brief glance back at him, but there wasn't anything to be say. The three of them worked like a machine, fanning out in a trident. The instant a larger Grimm got involved, that trident shrunk back into a three-layer phalanx. They swept through the Grimm like executioners, crushing, skewering, and dicing without missing a beat. Their coordination was the best he'd seen since they'd started training. They weaved through each other to switch position and cover each other's backs like water.

_Wow._

It was a certain affirmation. That he'd prepared them for this, and it actually paid off. They weren't just _scraping_ by, in this do-or-die moment, they were _thriving_.

_They've got this line for now, I'll back them up after I check in with Goodwitch._

Blinking over to the center of the hill, the first thing he noticed was how _few_ students had actually made it out of that surge. There was Team JNPR and the remnants of RWBY, defending the southern line about midway up the hill, and a couple of Teams he didn't recognize covering the rest. As opposed to the _dozens_ of incapacitated or blatantly _dying_ that littered the crest of the hill.

For all of their efforts, he didn't see how they were going to make it. If the Grimm decided to rush them again, they were _fucked. _His own Aura was riding at about one-fourth capacity, and the rest of his Team were just as close. The other Teams were even worse off, they hadn't exactly trained for this.

_We need a new plan. _

Even as he thought it, the answer clicked in his head.

_It's all we've got. I need to at least try._

Even then, it didn't make anything certain. But it would _definitely_ help buy them enough time.

_Don't fuck this up, Silva. _

He jogged over to Professor Goodwitch, coming to a stop as the woman finished dressing another student's wounds. She looked over to him, wiping her hands against her now muddied and blood-stained clothes. "What is it, Taro? Are you hurt?" She asked.

"I'm fine. Listen, I have an idea to buy us some time, but it's going to kill the rest of my Aura. As soon as I'm done, I need you to get a smoke signal going somehow. We'll be somewhere else, and Ozpin has to be able to spot us. Got it?" He explained, and she nodded. He turned away at that, time was burning.

Silva glanced up at the sky, rain speckling his face as he analyzed the clouds. It was almost black, so thick was the storm. Not the slightest sliver of sunlight.

_Looks good. Alright, Silva, deeep breath._

He drew air into his lungs, a steady, slow inhale that was reflected in his pale Aura's glow blanketing the immediate area. He stretched his Semblance as far as he could, making certain he wasn't forgetting anyone. He counted thirty or so, and he didn't have time to comb through corpses looking for survivors. A grimace crossed his face at the realization.

_Sorry._

With that, he let his breath out all at once. In the span of single second, every person he could account for vanished from the hilltop, melting into the shadow of the thunderstorm.

**_PAIN_**

It felt like he'd been struck by lightning and dipped in salt water, then frozen and shattered all in one. His bones ached down to the marrow, his head throbbed worse than it had the morning after killing those crime lords.

_KEEP IT TOGETHER, DAMN IT!_

It took every _fiber_ of his will to not let his grip on them slip, and yet still he reached deeper into his Semblance. With an audible, raspy growl, he _shoved_ everyone back out nearly a mile away, near the edge of the storm. The sudden relapse of pressure hit him like actual whiplash, the intensity of his Semblance shorting out as his Aura finally shattered.

Then he felt relatively fine. The absence of Aura meant his body couldn't feel the exertion his Semblance had caused. He was still tired, even more than he'd expected, but he wasn't out of the fight yet. He looked around, a smile weakly crossing his lips as he failed to see any Grimm around them. No doubt the Grimm were already heading their way, fuckers could probably sense the desperation and pain as clearly as a lighthouse.

_That... _

It took a moment to fully get over what he'd just done.

_That fucking worked! _

A weak smile broke into a dumb grin, he fell to his back and just laid there for a moment. It wasn't long before he heard footsteps approaching him. A single eye flicked open to greet them.

"Hey, Mutt!" Cardin half-barked, nudging Silva's shoulder with his boot. "The fuck did you do? I don't recognize shit around here." He gestured to the surrounding trees as he spoke. "Actually, you know what? Don't answer that." His features became stony, like he was absolutely _livid _but trying to be civil about it. "No, what I'm more confused about is why the _fuck_ you didn't do that _two hours ago_, when everyone was _still alive!?" _His voice was heavy, ragged. Pained. Silva understood why he was so conflicted, so angry.

"Cardin, two hours ago we had everything under control. I may have experience, and skill, but I'm not fucking psychic. We all did what we could, and because of that at least _some_ of us made it out." The Winchester glanced away at that, his face scrunched in frustration.

"I hate this. I fucking _hate it_."

"If you didn't you wouldn't be human." Silva's words surprised himself, even if it didn't show. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to think any differently.

_Human._

_Human._

The word looped in his mind. He'd used it a thousand times, but now it left an entirely _different_ taste in his mouth.

* * *

**_With Blake..._**

She didn't know _how_ they were off that hill. She didn't _care_, either.

_We're alive._

That was all that mattered. The last few hours had been such a nightmare that she wouldn't _dare_ try her luck.

"Blake." She opened her eyes just in time to catch a plastic water bottle, which she tore open and began guzzling hastily. Weiss gracefully sat on a nearby exposed root, and the way she bothered to brush leaves off of it while being _covered_ in mud caused Blake to nearly choke to death as laughter bubbled up from her chest. Mirth quickly turned into a violent coughing fit, which got the Schnee to start silently chuckling to herself in turn.

She felt so... out of it. Like that euphoria you feel when getting over something extremely hot. She chalked it up to the exhaustion.

Yang joined them a little later, no doubt she needed some time with her sister after... _that._

"Ruby okay?" She asked, the blonde brawler flopping out onto the leaves.

"She'll be alright. Just gonna have to watch her arm for a while, but even that should be covered once her Aura gets back in shape." Yang explained, letting out a thorough yawn and rolling onto her side. "So, that happened." That last bit brought a hazy reverie over them all.

"Yeah."

"It did."

"..." None of them knew how to express what they were all feeling. The exhaustion, the fear, the anxiety, the desperation, where did you even start broaching all of that?

Yet, she still felt like they understood each other. Even without words, just _being_ there, together, made it all okay.

They'd survived.

* * *

_**Hello again!**_

_**Sorry for the big hiatus, Graduation really threw off my writing process for a while, got caught up in real life.**_

_**I promise to update a bit more often, now I've got more time to write than I know what to do with.**_

_**Short AN this time, I'll probably add more if I feel like it. Just want you guys to know I'm not done.**_

_**Buh-Bye!**_


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